The problem with beginnings

the problem with starting to write is that the emptiness looks too beautiful to destroy... this poem came unstuck from my head several calendar leaves ago... a quest for a sense of purpose... WHITHER ALASKA? It ran off the map a week ago, Have been searching for it ever since Have emptied my pockets Of the small change, even the elusive matchboxes Scanned my neurons, Searched the bloodstreams- limb to limb. MISSING Call the police, Alert National Security, Convene a meeting Of global heads. MISSING Has it gone in search of child hood dreams? Has it left to find a lost love? Has it lost the will to live? Has it lost the will to will? MISSING If it appears to you someday mail it back to the cartographers and include a tube of industrial strength glue.