Thursday, 26 July 2012

Sonnet No. something or other

Oh grant me sleep you late night rousers
who pluck the cat gut fears of an old man’s intestines,
who skim the brain before thoughts settle
and become another day’s mulch.
Oh let me sleep you midnight carollers
singing fancy kisses past my linoleum ears,
who steal the dreams before hope sprouts
like a new bud in a dead garden.

I am so tired; my tattered memories 
rerun themselves endlessly, the loop
spinning while my words return to the dribbles
of my first utterances. Peace grant me
oh night stalkers, oh rebellious cheersters,
I have not the ink to stain another day.

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