writers block

How does this “writing process” work,
he wonders, as he waits for the
word
or the thought
or the memory
or the face, word, sound, idea that
will
set him to creating something
that sounds real or at least
plausible.
He tries to remember how it sounded
or felt back when he was writing
without really knowing what he was doing,
and thinking
that he knew what he was
doing. Then, he stopped
and didn’t start up soon enough, again,
and his muse got wind of it
and left for greener pastures
or imaginations. Now, he is left
to his own doings and devices, as they might
be, and writes, hoping to catch
a kernel of truth and
turn it into
something that looks
like nothing he’d seen.
Most of the time from the
darkness, where nothing
much
is
visible.
Most
of the time.