Another hark, and Bunker late.

I keep a herd.

Welcome to the moment of pure creativity.
I used to approach it with the latest laptop
wherever the mood might strike;
words lashed out unthinking.

I bought a desktop, it was unmoving.
I thought it would make things harder,
make me watch my fingers. I resented
that. I bought a typewriter. No 'delete',
but a monumental waste of trees as mistakes
built up – I bought a pen, wrote to here,

biro then fountain then pencil, quill and ink—
it's easy to get stuck on the smaller steps, delay
the inevitable. I slaughtered
my first goat, stripped its skin,
dipped my finger in its blood, used my hand.

It took time, but time enough to consider
what I wanted to say.