“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


the almost 3 a.m., can't sleep, feeling sorry for myself blues. without pictures.

at wide awake 2 in the morning
the language of this house is loud.
the ticking tocking always clocking unslept minutes
mocking me mocking ticking tocking,
the stillness sound asleepness of the cat's silence pressed
against my thigh is enough to wake the dead
but there is only me alive with thoughts like thunder 
and toes like ice
and every itch cheered through a megaphone,
and the crowd goes wild.
every ache is a church funeral choir singing me into the cold cold ground,
singing and smacking their hands together loud and louder
and stomping in godlike awful powerful rhythm,
because i expect a damn good send-off for all this suffering.


day 16 of NaPoWriMo, national poetry writing month.
a poem a day.


  1. well.
    if it's any consolation [and if YOU wrote that poem] i'm awake and at work.
    so: i hear you.
    my aching bones bring me to a dead-halt every few steps: i stop, i stretch, i curse, then i remember it's only me i'm cursing.
    so: i bless myself and move on, knowing people count on me at this time of night.


  2. wow, I'm sorry for your insomnia but I love the results!!

  3. And the crowd goes wild....
    Absolute perfection.
    You've captured perfectly here what we all experience during those sleepless nights. Wishing you deep, peaceful sleep tonight.

  4. And a sleepless night turns into beautiful poetry....wonderfully done

  5. Yes, I am sorry that it was such a difficult night, but you turn all into beauty.
    Wishing you an easy day today & a a good night's sleep tonight.

  6. "the stillness sound asleepness of the cat's silence pressed"

    the music in this line is magical, and i wish the music you were hearing was not the itching aching stomping clapping kind...

    sending you hugs and hope that you find some relief, somewhere somehow, soon.

  7. you write words in any hour. my finest words are written only in my head when sleep does not overtake me. i could write chapters, if only i would get up and put them to paper.
    i am glad you do...
    in fondest, tild

  8. sometimes the way you slap words together just cracks me up..
    Like a fizzy drink, it leaves bubbles in the brain...

  9. Sleeping is somewhat like dying....
    lying in bed @ 2 am awake
    is as bad as dying,

  10. So glad you write during those dark, dark nights when sleep doesn't visit. So sorry you were not sleeping though. Rest dear lady, rest.

  11. about that poetry reading you were talking about starting in your community . . . what about a one-woman performance, sugar? this is, like darn near everything you write, exquisite, captivating, breath-taking.

  12. I often have trouble sleeping, and I can completely relate to this poem--a great description!


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