If You Want to Read This, You Know What to Do.


I lie in bed at 3am
trying to write a poem.
My light is on
and I try not to disturb the crickets.
Their hearts have reached a resting state
and they are saving their songs for tomorrow.
They have discipline.
The loudest thing this morning
is my pen
The most impetuous thing this morning
is my mind
conspiring against the pen
haphazard on the page
scrawling into illegibility
which isn’t like me.

What. How.

Sometimes thoughts cross my mind, just because they’re thoughts and they’re supposed to cross my mind. Sometimes I can see where they go and other times they vanish. Sometimes they blend into other thoughts and I can’t really tell what I’m thinking. A really nice storm dropped onto Provo today. The wind whistled through the trees and raindrops tapped uneven rhythms on my roof. Right now, the cadence of crickets guides my breathing, but I still want to hold my breath.