2:30 a.m. at night. I write to exorcise cuts and insomnia.
Of a sharpened filament
Flows, cunning
A single droplet
A gummy little pearl.
A clot.
Blooming stains of
Amnesia
Like a resounding plucked string --
Vibrating with malice
In fragile prayers and inept chords
That marble hands weave
In silent
Insomnia
