The Still Advance
Blank spaces yawn where thoughts belong.
Vertigo drops heads and lifts them
With sudden jolts of indecision.
Daytime lags and lengthens,
A lazy prairie field of quiet companions;
But night welcomes with the arms of a brother.
Street lights flicker;
Drowsy minds falter and snap to attention.
Time, in all its broken glory, listens.
The Consolations of Writing 