Today

...I'm going to write in my journal, read, and then write a poem about John Ashbery.

I am wicked tired, after having slept only 3 hours--I've been up since 2:30AM and the weather's not helping--it's overcast and cool and windless, so I'm drowsing off at the keyboard, with a book in my hand, and also writing by pen. Embarrassing to jostle awake, self=conscious of my old geezer nodding, and realizing that I nodded out in the middle of a cut and paste move; or with my pen touching a page and forming a pool of thick ink; the book falling on my face, or the floor.

But I dare not nap, for I won't sleep tonight.

So it's off for strong coffee and an uncomfortable chair.

Maybe I can rustle up some energy and shape some language.