Tomorrow is the day of peeling off yesterday,
the muse says to me at 3 a.m.; through tired eyes,
I say,"I didn't summon you--I don't need you
and actually I don't want you riding around
on my shoulder, breathing down my neck,"
. . .at 3:05 I tell her, "Go bother someone else
now, someone who wants and prays and begs for you,
and if you think I'm giving you credit
for that first line, you are dead wrong."

From Point No Point to Useless Bay,
reports of whales breaching,
like grey-flanneled doormen,
anxious for a break in the weather.