It's weird, I've had this blog for years
and I've never tried to write a poem at night
Is it because after sunset, the demons come out?
Or perhaps a Jewish violinist can't stay awake.
Not sure. I throw rocks into the Lake at night
or run a stick through the mud
count the stars and heave smooth glass at the tree trunks
I cup the cold sand in my hand
and peacefully become a remission of my own self.
That's what I usually do at night,
not write poems.