As the sky prepares to settle its tired, aching feetinto the night’s velvet slippersI settle, into my armchair, soaking the teabag,of my thoughts, into warm liquidy stars.

sometimes i wake upin the middleof the nightand findpoetry splatteredall over my bed.

Night is a time of terror. Worries and anxieties are unleashed by the darkness, when the distractions and the busyness of the day can no longer keep them at bay.” Killing Lincoln by Bill O’Reilly

Although we are necessarily concerned, in a chronicle of events, with physical action by the light of day, history suggests that the human spirit wanders farthest in the silent hours between midnight and dawn. Those...

Nightly returning miracle, you turn to anarchy the strict rule of reason.