This nocturnal schedule is conducive to poetry. I suddenly have a lot of silence and darkness in my days. With the sun no longer a distraction, I’m immersed in myself. No more busy schedule pulling me. Just poetry and the night.
I find myself waking up full of dreams that want to be written. Writing along with my first cup of coffee is becoming a ritual. With the veil between sleep and life so thin, the words spill themselves onto the page.