David L. Ulin

Today

and what if i was

to do nothing

turn off my devices

and have myself

a time

no texts

no calls

no meetings

nobody pulling at me

for all they think

i have to offer

every pound of

flesh they wish

to cleave

but that isn’t

how it happens

seven hours later

i am just returning

to this poem

each stanza like the

lens of a telescope

the eyepiece in anticipation

the objective in aftermath

and between them

the closed coil of my obligations

which might also be a metaphor

or is that the

other way around

Head Cold

neither sick enough

to be sick

nor well enough

to be well

in this corner of

the bardo

i consider all i lack

the energy

to accomplish

and wonder

whether my mild

incapacitation

represents rupture

or relief

Harrow

weird fragmented dreams

involving a go bag

although i’m not

going anywhere

just drifting

in and out of sleep

in this predawn bed

until the hour

arrives to rise

to stretch my body

its incessant aches

and urges

on the harrow

of the day

David L. Ulin is the author or editor of more than twenty books, including American Flash Fiction: A Literary Anthology, forthcoming from Library of America.