RSS Feed

lost art of sleep

is it lost by lack of practice
skill slipping away, inattention
till you can no longer–what?
ride a bike,
flip a pancake?

No. now that I’ve had quiet hours–
so many quiet hours–to think it over,
It is closest to skipping flat stones
across still water–you find the right stone–
and let it go
just so–
you don’t remember that you know
how to do this
but your body remembers and
there goes that stone
again and again and again
till it quiets and sinks beneath the surface
just so, you used to fall asleep

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

Leaf & Twig

Where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry.

%d bloggers like this: