Stern Country

For sleeplessness, your head face down, your shoulder blades floating and aspirin as a last resort, when death is threatening, though lately I have experimented with numbers and as for dreams I've never been boring and only once did I bite the arm of a woman sitting next to me and I should be careful, she might have a hand-written poem or a memoir and didn't I bite her arm and aren't we both poets, though I warn her that I make gurgling noises and twitch in both legs and make the bed jump and I am exhausted from looking at poems and I don't care about her nuts and bolts and she has to go to the wilderness herself and fuck the exercises, let her get smashed by a Mack truck, then she'll be ready to mourn.