this need of doing something…
flighty fidgeting fucking…enough…
television…telephone…texting…talking to strangers in Bangladesh…anything but poetry…
meditation is needed…locked away in solace…kept apart…from them and this and these and they.. and…and…now i lay thee down to…
noise…it never goes away…i sleep to the serenade of gunshots…old Leonard Cohen songs…boys-n- girls up and down the block play midnight games of tag…you’re it….Hallelujah…Hallelujah…Hallelujah…
let’s rest our bones…put our souls in slumber…while America’s insomnia continues into morn…
shhhh…stop twitching…shaking…talking…too much…too…too…much…
here’s a buck… now…go away…
