Sometimes I wish I could sleep
one night through,
not knowing why I or anyone
would want that.
An uninterrupted night’s sleep,
wouldn’t that be
death’s soul mate?
The bane of glorious, howling life,
the undoing of creativity,
the end of hungry, lonesome poetry?
My dream is to know the starry nights
Van Gogh once worshiped
as I search for ancient wisdom and
appeal to all powers, everywhere,
to keep mediocrity and normalcy at bay.