The Magick of Last Night

A cup of Siberian Ginseng Tea with sugar
Then I find myself in the closet with a computer and books
And soon enough the books are spilled over and I am only interested in what was inspired
And that fills up many physical and digital pages
And it is late and I want to wake early, but the sleeping doesn’t come easy
The light comes back on a dozen times to write more thoughts
Then a kind of sleep that is dreaming but still awake
And I hear the dogs barking, and I would howl too if not for my sleeping host
But I race to the window to listen with a tape recorder
But it is too late, and the rabbit is dead, and they weren’t dogs at all but Coyote,
And I am sad for the rabbit, but a devilish smile is stretched across my lips, though my eyes turn down to make tears
And I am in bed again
And another howl, the neighbor screams so loudly.
That same smile, for it was for the things her husband was doing to her in the middle of the night.
And I almost rush to the window, save common courtesy,
Though I would listen to both her and the dogs as a sort of maddening lullaby.
But a moth sits on my back so I don’t lay down completely.
And it tickles, but I make sure not to crush the thing.
Though I sadly kill a spider in the morning because my host is afraid.