THE NIGHTMARE TOUCHED ITS FOREHEAD TO MY LIPS
The stars must be doped out the way they flicker
& refuse to answer my calls.
I prefer waking
but frail hours, cold sleep. Enough time
then never enough.
I’d like to put the night in a cage
& let it breed like two finches.
All the eggs that won’t hatch but mothered.
the flock moves through the sky like ruin & I am only the man I am today
the branches will again net the 4:00pm twilight & the absence of birds
I am all of this season within season
on my third beer
unhinged dream as my sinew
ready to lay down until the snow leans the branches to net me in quiet
fawn emerges after the after
its muzzle buried in snow
it is now the after
the grey sky so close & impossible
the phone falls through my hands & I am left with salt water
whalebone in history
wolf in the stars
then all the skeletal keys not yet written & all at once
blood-let in the chamber of night
methodically cleaning my apartment
doing lines alone
I have tamped down the earth & prayed for the vault to open
all my psychological shit untouched
when I imagine myself
I am always leaving
I couldn’t draw my own face if god asked