I grind my teeth at night,
I clench my jaws
what’s troubling me,
beneath the surface?
big, prehistoric fish
swimming low?
my fears, my desires,
combined to one?
you clench your jaws
for all you want to say
but cannot,
they said
I’ve lived long enough
to know, there is no spirit
or sign, no wizard who comes
in the middle of the night
to shake our shoulders
and whisper
Believe—no,
for whichever waters
we choose to cross
it is only us,
alone,
who can
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Categories: inspiration, poetry, writing
Bill Pearse 
It must be the claustrophobia of winter. I’m getting my poetic groove on too. Either that, or it’s too damned cold to form complete sentences and this is the result. I liked the poem and followed the uneven rhythm to the end. Were you tempted to add some kind of concluding word though? Or did it feel enough when you hit the final sentence? (I’m struggling with my own thing here, so I may be projecting.) When is enough enough?
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Well isn’t that the question, when is it done? Or when is enough enough? For me, that just comes from trying as best you can to distill what you’re wanting to say and rereading/reworking until you’re satisfied. Often, I release stuff I’m not satisfied with just to let it go. I haven’t learned to be patient enough yet, but perhaps I get a little better each time, I’d like to think! Thanks for coming over and glad to hear you’re getting your “P-groove” on too, love that. Bill
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I wear a splint, a kind of sleep mouthguard in case your dreams punch you in the kisser.
My dentist tries to save me from the lonely voyage but I still damage teeth.
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Ha, that’s good Bruce. Funny I need one again, though I don’t have any seeming stress to speak of. Imagine if I did, good gracious!
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