cannot sleep in any time zone
even Claudio Stampi’s research &
licking someone’s toes in a wish
become winks adding to 40 &
not snoring—a game of
squash
gin blossoms & Monte Cassino assault
wake up driver, it’s my stop—
the futon store &
a play by Dr. Noh (“Yes We Have No Piranhas”)—
now restlessness leads me west
to a land grab, a naval battle with macaques
marimba mallets, warm milk & cookies—
then ninja conductors lead the bullet train in Nissan’s 9th Symphony
music washes over like the baths of my cat mother—
clean, wet, & sleek furred inamora
I beg to rejoin
my bed in the underworld with Yomiuri Giants
all getting Zs, how else would they grow
but I cannot write a straight line
crossing the median for a wreck with a truck
road snowed with feathers & me in orbit
with The Otter & obscure constellations until
some bratty comet vomits beer &
planetary gagging drags me to bright surface
polished as lakes
& the sad sight of sun up & raring to fry
another day to go for those already in line
with steady rested eyes &
I cry & sue for peace please I surrender
too tired to attack
while Japan naps |