Writer's Block

Came across this poem some time back - don't remember where I found it - and stuck it in the front of one of my journals:

Writer's Block

The simplest art is dreaming.
Mice come from the underground to nibble at a fallow notepad.
It helps to be afraid of them,
to stand helpless
as they have their way.
They cannot be stopped, and having stripped
the kitchen they eat the hearts
from books. They arrive
in hundreds, seeming to multiply
as the night grows long,
until they are sated and leave.
It helps to imagine them as being larger
than they are, to think of them
as being armed, and to forgive
them for being hungry and for taking
the perfection from paper. The rest
is instinct. Begin with any word. Nothing
worse can happen now.

David Chorlton