I wake up slowly
thinking,
I might like to shoot
the President today;

then I rethink it
and think about everyone else
I’d need to shoot
to make wishes come true.

I’m so tired
anyway, waiting
for the hibiscus
to bloom, waiting for

dead fires to start
among the dead wood
below me. This is why
I awaken so slowly:

there is so much to do
and I do so little anyway.
So I have learned to sleep
with one eye open

waiting for my clear shot,
for a day to clear and offer peace
to the waking mind, to pray
against hope for grace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T