- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Your Notebook, Mrs. Woyzeck
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I am managing to stave off sleep, but I feel it, hovering close overhead
threatening impassively to descend
like a weight on my eyebrows a warmth in my ears
a glitch in each joint when I try to move
it's near
and I know it is implacable
Coffee is like Ariadne
giving me a thread to follow until I can at last see light
So at least in the meantime I can probably cuff any minotaurs I meet upside the head
so long as they move slowly
haul ass wouldja minotaurs get out the fuckin way
Of course when I stand in the light
sleep will take me
Hope I don't piss off too many minotaurs, man
them things'll hurtcha
That's it, Mrs. Woyzeck. Thank you.
Title it "The Labyrinth of the Office" and send it to the New Yorker.
And have them send me more coffee.
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