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May 9, 2014


I lie beneath my bedroom window, where
the sounds of life beyond my vision tear
into my tired ears, their nature more
than words, for I am far too tired to form
communicateable analysis
on sounds—they sound like…that; like also…this.
I have no onomatopoeic skills
so late, so tired, at night—and really, will
a logical array of letters sound
remotely like the sound, however sound
one’s logic is? I’m just so tired. My head
is heavy. Can someone tell me why a z
is onomatopoeic sleep?


An alternative haiku:

I am a bear, but
cannot hibernate, for I
am forced to pay bills.

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