Someone once said great revolutions in thought come on doves feet. Is your muse avian? If not, give her a Tommy Burger with chile fries, six gallons of water, that aughtta kick start her. If not, put a nickel in her poison purse a pray for rain.
Mike I shit you not but a little bird just knocked itself silly flying into my balcony window. I watched it twitch for a few minutes unsure how to help. Finally tapped on glass. It hopped up and took flight. Muse back in business. Who says near death experiences have to be your own?