the platitudes of willful resemblance

here we are at two in the morning

2.16 to be precise

and sleep is in the past and far from me now

I eat Reality Sandwiches

and drink coffee, black, out from a chipped mug

I seem to be the target of spam lately

and with this I admit to the digital age

fully with handheld computers

and online dictionaries and

the classic writers thesaurus

and I read Bartlett’s book of anecdotes

to substitute for any actual experience

which is a lie

though I sleep away in relative safety

next to a loaded revolver

MOLON LABE – out from my cold dead hands

and of course I speak of poetry

long looks and bedroom post-coital whispers

it is not enough that the sun should rise

in a few hours but that the moon is full

– Hoc Scripsi