Nigh

At 2 a.m. the sentences were like unruly sheep, flocking this way and that through my barn, I mean brain. Competing with the old execution to fall asleep fantasy ain't easy. The naive nativity is never so nigh (as now).

Now what do you have to say? Unseasonal warmth has melted all the snow I might otherwise have had to shovel off, a simple enough fact that does prompt one to go looking for hidden meanings. "It rains so that people can swim."

"He died because that's how life is." Meanwhile, I'm watching teen dating epics and wondering how I've managed to go so long without reading Zukofsky. The back fence fell down in last night's wind, meaning I can't leave for the library until it's fixed, and there's a lesson in that, too.

Brain aneurysm vs. suicide, you decide because nobody's saying. We are friends because neither of us felt at home where we lived, and our paths kept crossing in fortuitous ways. January is the wrong month, can we make it summer, or otherwise improve on the sentence?

I've gotten too cozy with form here, and the twenty sentences themselves don't make the same demands of me, in which realizations I must now regrettably say there is - you guessed it - a lesson. I was happy in those days when all I did was file the paperwork of a lawyer who picked his nose in public. In the dream, I found your missing arrow, pulled it out of the earth, and was much celebrated thereafter, or am I projecting?

Have a burger on me, pal, and screw the calories! I haven't noticed growing old save for the ringing in my ears and a preponderance of nostril hairs. But I still do love the mail almost as much as I love a good pie.

I don't care for first person narrative either but you do what you have to, he wrote. I can feel you when you read, you know.