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.