it's past midnight
and my thoughts is just
fuzz, lintballs and
cotton candy
rolling around like
tumble weeds
across a vast and barren plain
that purports to a working
brain.
i am so very far beyond
myself that i am forgetting
who i am....why...
it is grant writing season
and i have used my quota
of words ...
so just visualize
something wonderful,
off to the west over there..
while i sleep over under
this tree here....
and if i am quiet enough, maybe i will come back,
to me.
then the carniva,
will begin again
tommorrow...
sonetimes real life is
such a grind...
thiswas me last night, writing freeflow...now
add one more day of writing
academic and theatrical jargon.... and see me sitting
slack jawed in the corner...
just don't poke me...truly
i might bite..or just begin to drool...