Sleepy

[rejectomorph]

Though there wasn't much in the way of rain today, on several occasions there were brief falls of hail, and a few times I saw snowflakes drifting down. The forecast says there's a possibility of snow here between midnight and eight o'clock tomorrow morning, but as all such predictions so far this year have come to nothing I won't count on seeing it, even if I'm awake, which I might not be. Too little sleep again last night, and a tiring day going off to the markets.

It was a near disaster, as I lost my list somewhere between the car and the first store, and couldn't find it when I retraced my steps. There was no time to go home and reconstruct it, so I had to rely on memory— a chancy strategy even at the best of times. Since returning home I have recalled one item in particular I'd wanted but forgot, and there are undoubtedly others. I picked up a couple of things I know were not on the list, but still spent slightly less money than I'd expected. Forgetting ones list is one way to economize, I suppose, but I wouldn't recommend it.

If forgetting things was an Olympic event I'd be gold.

Now I'm going to eat something because I'm pretty sure I'll be falling asleep early tonight, and I hate to sleep on an empty stomach. Especially my own.




Sunday Verse

Sleep Door

by Kazim Ali


a light knocking on the sleep door
like the sound of a rope striking the side of a boat

heard underwater
boats pulling up alongside each other

beneath the surface we rub up against each other
will we capsize in

the surge and silence
of waking from sleep

you are a lost canoe, navigating by me
I am the star map tonight

all the failed echoes
don't matter

the painted-over murals
don't matter

you can find your way to me
by the faint star-lamp

we are a fleet now
our prows zeroing in

praying in the wind
to spin like haywire compasses

toward whichever direction
will have us