3:45 a.m. – Wake naturally to the soft sigh of a ghost. Or maybe it’s the hum of the Amherst wind through the shutters. Either way, it’s a Sign. Do not question the Sign.
4:00 a.m. – Lie completely still and compose six hauntingly perfect quatrains in your mind. Refuse to scribble them down. Let them ferment in the silence like forbidden knowledge.
4:45 a.m. – Tape mouth shut. This is not for health. It’s a vow of silence to preserve the sanctity of unspoken verse.
5:00 a.m. – Dwell in possibility while donning a flawless white gown. Consider briefly wearing a beige one, then laugh inwardly. This mortal coil is no place for earth tones.
5:30 a.m. – Place a single drop of rosewater on your forehead. It’s not skincare; it’s communion with eternity.
6:00 a.m. – Practice 1,872 quill strokes. Each stroke corresponds to a previously unpublished poem. Resist the urge to show anyone. Genius is a private affair.


