past midnite, should be sleeping,

but these days there’s always one more paragraph needing to be revised,

one more alert needing attending to….

this is the kinda poetry that tides me.


nothing will keep us young you know

not young men or

women who spin

their youth on

cool playing sounds.

we are what we

are what we never

think we are.

no more wild geo

graphies of the flesh. echoes. that

we move in tune to

slower smells.

It is a hard thing

to admit that

sometimes after midnight

I am tired

of it all.


sonia sanchez