Tag Archives: insomnia

Insomnia Redux

Would that this night provide some small respite,
sweet sleep instead of wisps of restless dream;
but like a spring o’er-wound and pulled too tight,
my mind finds no repose. Each small sound seems

a thunderclap that echoes in the dark
and leaves behind a wake that does not fade,
while every thought like striking flint brings sparks
that catch in flame acts due from plans unmade.

In restless times as these, creative souls
are said to find stray inspiration loosed,
and in somnambulence descry the whole,
that waking, they may put to greater use;

but I find not epiphany, just ache
that grows with each new moment still awake.

27 JAN 2006

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Awake at Dawn

I find myself in recent days at dawn,
a time of morning I’ve not seen for years,
and in that space where darkness soon is gone
a soft, yet vibrant energy appears.

I used to be enchanted by the night,
and find that time of silence fighting sleep;
but as of late it seems, try as I might,
those midnight rendezvous are hard to keep.

So there under the carport, with the birds
as they begin to sing and stretch their wings,
I listen to the starting sounds of words
and try to notice what songs the earth sings.

It does not rule for long, this quiet peace,
But behind the day’s noise, it does not cease.

11 MAR 2004

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Insomnia

at one a.m., when sleep won’t come
and my thoughts ramble, loose
in my head like marbles in a tin can,
the night air still oppressive and thick
under the carport where my cigarettes
call out their siren’s song,
silence and the cicadas drowned out
by the abrasive whirr of central air units
next door, down the street, one block over,
my body falling down with tired
that my too-wired mind
refuses to acknowledge:
these are the manic times, the hours
that stretch out until dawn and burn
what wax is fresh and virgin clean
from the candlestick that moves
this weary flesh from stock still meat
to animus. in a minute, these few lines
will finish — then a smoke on the front lawn,
a cup of chilled green tea,
a half-assed yoga pose to tease
my weary bone-tired joints,
then off to lay in bed awake
and count the minutes
until they blur together in a hazy
alpha state where no new dreams come —
they are afraid to disturb,
to start anew the wheels of cognition
that so obviously need
the lubrication of a soothing slumber.

29 AUG 2003

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