march first, as if certain
sleep
is just down the street,
easy to reach.
Go empty-handed.
Sometimes, I carry a long stick,
jab at the ground
or poke the air ahead
demanding to know,
How much further?
Other nights, I go barefoot
amble along in cool grass
at the road’s edge. Why rush?
Consider how often
the dream destination
involves wild animals,
murder mysteries, or me with
no lecture notes, on the stage
in a crowded hall.
Instead, for this new month,
walk through insomnia,
whistling.
Drop the stopwatch, the printed
itinerary–just breathe and walk
till I reach the threshold
and enter that other world
Puff Of Smoke Poems 
This is wow-good–love the helpful advice, relaxed perspective at the end 🙂
This has a very surreal feeling to it, like walking in a dream.