Floor Fan

It’s all noise. Put me to sleep in a too
quiet room and I’ll find more than a few
voices to make up for the lack of tune.
There’s nothing so meaningful as the lone
convincings of the slightly insane,
and silence itself is usually
to blame. Give me a fan to blow away
the nonsense that nobody hears but me.
Keep me cool and quilt covered, and mostly
undiscovered, and unmolested, and
primarily at my best, ignoring
the restless rest of myself that no one
else has to listen to except in my
sleep, online, and at poetry readings.

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