Nothing more intimate than sleep
wake before dawn, go downtown
prepare for tomorrow, come home from work late.
Most cities prosper undisturbed
while the tide goes out.
Are we asleep or are we dancing,
surrounded by buildings,
a primitive fertility dance in the forest?
Sleeping in my clothes,
sleeping in my underwear,
two dead leaves, then a breeze!
Fall asleep by the river,
in front of tv,
soon I will know who I am.
In the last days you may be found sleeping in the laundry mornings,
or in the holy spot
gazing at a crescent moon.
Get up early but gotta nap,
winter afternoons or summer heat
Thanatopsis, Big Comfy Couch.
Sleep in the bed next to your wife
that way when life ends
someone misses you.
That sounds harsh but we’re matter of fact
about the fact of death.
Death is most of all like sleep.
Doctor, engineer, lawyer, soldier,
writer, poet, that’s the pecking order,
get some sleep, get over it.
Not the kind of gal who’ll have *** twice
on the first date. When that happens
marriage, babies, graduations, tragedies, sleep.
Headache, surgery, through it all
there’s sleep, a haven, heaven, hovel, cave, raven,
a place to be with eyes wide open.
Don’t have a hissy fit
or case of colon cancer, get 8 hours
shuteye in contiguous array.
If not, listen to a TED talk, they like explaining things
Selected Shorts solves insomnia,
The Moth Hour, the peaceful father, mother.
Sweet pleasing Sleep!
where the lights are always blue, gentian actually.
Every third thought doesn’t have to be about death.
Sleep together, get laid.
Sleep. How memories are made.
Sleep. In the palm at the end of the mind or on another plane.