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As when a goldsmith draws a pliers pinch
of reddish metal through an iron plate,
but his gold's gone too cold for pulling straight
and so he strains for every wire inch;

and as a rower a length behind the leader
pulls hard, but with her muscles all but dead
she doesn't have enough to pull ahead,
and arms legs lungs burn with strokes that don't speed her;

so do I stare at this white screen, this row
of black letters as meaningless as the dead,
and for all I try to make this story go,

each word is drawn from under fingernails
as if by pincers, till I drop my head
onto the keyboard where my writing fails.

—17 & 20 August 2008

An example of how I feel Petrarch is a good stylistic influence on me -- compare, for example, with this. Also, Olympics coverage for the win.

---L.