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Occasional Poem: An Insomniac at 6 a.m.


Early graying to dawn, this night

longer than death

I thought I heard the roar of lions

From a dreamscape of childhood—

I thought I felt the glancing starlight


Please.  I crave sleep

Like heroin.

Pink dawn, frosted grass

Autumn moving in

Over the foothills, a blanket

Of rain and hail–


Desolate clatter

Of the neighbor’s trash can–

Drought-weary sunflowers

On the crisp morning air.