North of Sleep
North of Sleep
past borderlands,
By morning,
go on ahead.
At night,
my body is a compass
swinging to every direction:
swinging to every direction:
past borderlands,
the ruins of unknown,
empty streets
en route
to elsewhere,
slipping into rooms
where bearings
jolt me to a
wakefulness of frigid air
and dormant train tracks
wait to halt traffic
twice a day.
By morning,
I approach nausea,
relentless calls
relentless calls
to speak some truth,
a light with no shadow
a light with no shadow
but a heaviness.
The howl, dragged
from northern lights
I couldn’t even understand.
I couldn’t even understand.
I stop, let my soul
go on ahead.
Show me.
(Shouting now.)
Show me.
(Frightened now.)
The flaked ceiling points
to a bitten fingernail scratch
throwing grief across the back
as a one perfect window
diffuses time.
Noodles & coffee:
in a fractal tell a
haunting dirty knot
of restless
grime & eyes
bleeding in dreams
of forest.
Rise blind.
Reset automatically
to metabolism
& panic.
A syncopated
hallucination.
:: Note :: ... watched lightening over water ... wondered on krapps last tape ... wanted to remember lear ... was the face of my mother ... 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13 ... the year of the black dragon ... canada post stamp ...
