Poet’s Bane

On a dark star-filled night
I step outside long after
the town retires and gaze
upward, dogged stillness
the analogesic to my soul.
But even in this zero chill
the spirit cannot escape

the mind which never
seems to quiet. Toward
sacred space my thoughts
cannot help but articulate
morphemes, and silence
becomes the most self-
defeating prompt ever.

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