#28

I decided to post a prose poem for my free entry this week..

Russell Edson
Sleep
There was man who didn't know how to sleep; nodding
off every night into a drap, unprofessional sleep. Sleep that
he'd grown so tired of sleeping
He'd tried reading the Manuel of sleep, but it just put him
to sleep. That same old sleep that he'd grown tired of
sleeping...
He needed a sleeping master, who with whip and a
chair would discipline the night, and make him jump through
hoops of gasoline fire. Someone who could make a tiger sit
on a tiny pedestal and yawn.