I’m sleepy tonight and struggling to write. I admit that I’m more than tempted to either write nothing or recycle pieces of an existing poem. But that wouldn’t be fair.

Originality wins out then. If the poem that follows exhibits more than the usual oddity, blame it on the Sandman.




I stare at the screen, blinking
the cursor flashes in morse code
in red and later in black
its disgust at my indecision

I type “I flew a plane once”
delete it, then retype the line
I am aiming for daredevil
but fall short into mousy and sad

I hesitate a fifth time, an eternity
the cursor has an accomplice
the pointer, now inverted flag
appears at random on the screen

I am almost out of time
like wild animals, both cursor
and pointer smell my fear converge
to where my lines appear


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