A poem written each day upon waking. It's mostly unedited. I think that's the point. Promise not to laugh, or let me give up, and please, wish me luck.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
1/24/11
even the deepest sleeping
doesn't shake the sensation
of waking too soon -
of hotel rooms -
a bed unmade,
a bill unpaid,
and it'll feel this way
til we all come tripping
from the ceiling
into a cozier
feeling.
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