today i'm sad
thinking about the nights
of larkin and simic
all stumbling black windows
and insomnia

working nights
all i have is
the memory of relentless engines
mud and odors

as in mid-afternoon
i try to convince myself
to go to sleep
in the quiet of a small apartment
blinds against the daily brightness

i don't get to write poems
where the moon is framed in the window
but i know
better than others
the tottering ennui sunlight can set into motion
day after day on the edge of sleep


� 2004 by John Eivaz