in the bottom of the hour
lurks
the tree that cries in the night
the place that nobody found
being so young you thought
you could change it
being middle-aged and thinking
you could survive it
being old and thinking
you could hide from it.
in the bottom of the hour
lurks
2:30 a.m.
and the next to last line
and then the last.
“
| — |
Chuck Bukowski As a general rule, blogs and poetry don’t mix, but I’m not thinking clearly at 3:52am. Every time I have insomnia I think about these lines. |
