Go to sleep thinking
I have more to read before,
before…more to write before,
before…
wake up to read Holderlin,
to read Novalis…
listen to “”Pure and Easy”
by Townsend…

I can’t sleep yet, not before
I do my part but what is it?
Today it’s nothing,
it’s just sitting with my failings.
Today I am made aware
of all the feelings, complex
and simple, that I feel.
I can’t think, can’t eat but for
simple things with no flavor,
can’t write or read for any money
or fame or nearly ineffable
sense of understanding.

A child
passes me, riding on a star;
man is the sun; all fruit cooked
turns to snakes…
I don’t know
a word to make this all work
as it should. As it should
if I am whole and intact.

My head is full of islands
and the water between them
to swim; I sit like a vegetable…
before my time comes
I want life to connect them again…
but the chance is fat, is gross,
is unimaginable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward?
T