Insomnia delivers
to a morning of crack lights
falling in heavy patches, unwieldy
chunk light: dawn
stinks like brick and the
heavy concrete infests my joints
and jostles in stretch, resisting
said before I’ll play the so
this is morning in quiet decibel
The pillow is hot and reeks of
ground nerve, each point in
the sack will react as the
trees loosen birds – The oil
grinds into heat – water sweats
into salt – while the Romantic opiates
promising drifties from
corporeal stand locked behind
push drawers so
this is morning until
I fasten through and then
dream in heartfelt song
from the hewn eyes brush
away the enormous tree
for the standard of perfection
is writing under need
Lead on, Queen crown’d moon
unwound of imperfect stars, sleep
