Typing furiously upon her keyboard,
This insomnia gathering itself tighter,
No rest for the weary poet,
As she works deep into the night.
...
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How realistically yet poetically you have described the birth of a poem! I love it!
Feel free to become the fourth member of our little Michigan Native cultural revolution we have going on here. Good work sis. We are all packing up and moving East or West or to Europe. As soon as we find out where everyone else goes, I'll let you know.