Slept late again.
I guess they only go to sleep
if they are out in the cold.
Oh, I couldn’t sleep again!
My mind kept racing along
at fever-pitch; she said I didn’t have
the courage of my convictions.
Gisela likes to talk and tell secrets
and give counsels.
Couldn’t sleep—lurid dreams.
Had insomnia again!
Slept a long time.
There was a far-off gleam in her eye;
I could have shot him in the head.
That killed the day for me.
But there were cocktails, of course,
a long, fascinated conversation—
I felt dreamy.
This is a rather dizzying account
of the creation of the universe.
It’s an awfully good story,
and one expects momentarily
to be pelted by raindrops
as big as ripe plums.
If it’s Tuesday p.m., check out Open Link Night at dVerse Poets.