I wake to sleep
and sleep to wake
waking thus
seizing that
ceasing night’s film cascade —
micro bits orchestrated
without sound — [Why is there no sound
in sleep, no over-arching score –
in the façade of being
there
here, I mean?
Everything fallen
everything still
awake?]
The small birds no longer sleeping
keeping watch
for hawk
in the improvised bird bath
before night’s rain is tipped over
or evaporates in summer heat
The thin coyote sick
the sick clutching sleep’s microfiche
of distillations
the finest hours —
and then to wake
awkward
when to let
go
drop
the now-heavy objects
break the plane of knowing
anything
with eloquence
Object the verdict
to the unarticulated
crimes
Climbing the back of sky
sky-ing the waking
into an abstract
focus
on the plane
of being
transitive —
a new verb
for survival
for making
joy
How joyous the tern at the shore
in the microfilm
or so it seems
in seams of sentences
of waking
all the wounds of waking
and sleeping sewn
quilted with staple and gossamer
silver mercury fish swim underwater light-dream
thus
the Book – a heavy cloak
a House collapsed
by prayer —
offered
on a
pillar
a pyre
High-er
sky-ing the why-s of departure
of wingspan’s
ache
The shoulders – a and z
e – the sin curve of energy dissipating
x – the noumena — an unknown omnipresent variable
y – the syllables the syllables alas
I could go on
but I wake to sleep
and drink z – zymosis
some unknown poetry
the cloud-shrouded
sun
—-
sum.