this night deserves me to sleep,
no: this night requires me to sleep -
this night defines me as
being asleep -
there's hardly a lesson -
should i also be bound to shackles
of a dream -
this night deserves that i be asleep -
and write no more...
but what the hell am i doing?
reading a kenneth koch poem from
1975...
i want to be kissed by the moon
goodnight...
i want to find the bed and precursor
grave -
i want to find pillows made from
gently catwalking clouds -
with paparazzi stars flickering
rather than suggesting epileptic fits
of insanity on ol' cardinal...
i was to find the bedsheets -
not with some necrophilic metaphor
of a lazy wife...
or an overtly-demanding girlfriend...
i want to find bedsheets as night itself...
i hardly think i could share
a bed with someone, these days...
i tried once... sleeping with a cat proved
to be too demanding...
i can't imagine woman:
being my siamese thanatos...
just the right sort of music...
some cenobite chants...
prior to a poultry schnitzel eaten like
a hog might grovel and usurp some
earth to find a truffle...
a truffle is not a trifle is not a chocolate
truffle...
but i digress...
what i should have been watching
is some proper english soap opera...
come sunday and the omnibus of eastenders...
beside this soap opera yuo-tue.. b'eh-b'eh;
i wish it was a 20th century "welcome"...
dream, fall asleep...
be kissed by hitchcock's valkyrie:
ingrid bergman, tippi hedren,
madeleine carroll, kim novak, eva marie saint;
grace kelly...
did doris day make it?! "make it"?
i can't imagine falling asleep with someone...
i like my bed to be the best and only imitation
of a coffin: i will probably not own...
i'll probably become cremated...
ergo? i'm getting used to the bed...
since i will not own a coffin...
no mortgage on being dead...
son of the earth: but no epitaph...
the wind can speak for me...
no next-of-kin...
sycophants of the dead might arrive
like hyenas or vultures at a killing spree
of one lion's harem...
******* bonsai tigers: cats...
if i didn't... no...
if my mother didn't own any...
i wouldn't be the one... vacuuming
the house every, single, day...
to keep her o.c.d. at bay...
but sure as **** the house is pwetty pwetty
clean...
it's clean: and lived in...
up to the point where life...
doesn't involve having to entertain
other people...
solispsism via a **** on a sardine crammed
tram or train...
invasion of privacy: somel would cite...
this night deserves that i sleep...
i should be asleep: i'm already having
to waste an hour of excesses...
tomorrow i think i will make a purchase...
i was hesitant about buying...
a louis zukofsky...
as i was hesitant about buying a philip lamantia
oeuvre...
i try to fathom finding sleep in death...
i perhaps want to find the death within death -
a cushioned sensation of a body -
but a body somewhat without limbs
or internal organs -
a body that desires sleep -
but does not desire dreams -
i always found dreams to be a circus -
elevated meanings of the already
at hand corruption of people
who settled for luxury having lost
all their avenues for adventure...
minor escapism...
pathological excuse making -
less towing shawl and frivolous:
thrown toward the wind as a greeting!
this is a night i better sleep...
never mind dreaming...
i am not expected to write...
i am not bound by soap opera insomnia...
or tabloid press smear campaigns of:
what telephone have "they" not yet
hacked?!
may god or whatever will:
preserve us all - within the empathy of:
goodnight, goodnight; goodnight.
