3

Dogs will sleep anywhere, sometimes circling
Like a boa around a pig or like the hand of someone winding a clock
Around and around before falling down to sleep

Among the secrets of the sleep world that can't be shared
Is that we seem to be free of any judgment
And it's the sole truly apolitical realm we have

Yet the recurring nightmare of many
Has entered reality and is taking place now in the nation we inhabit
Finding ourselves naked in public

And unable to run, gravity holds us down
The one true transitory power
And the sand on the beach is dirty

Yes, the sand on the beach is dirty
And at low tide mud life burbles from the mudflats as bugs buzz
I rejoice that things are as they are

On the fringes of what I experience I verge
On the edge of unspeakable irritation
As my thoughts sink after my stick

Deeply probing the improbabilities
Which happy gamblers and good improvisers take advantage of, delighting in
Things going wrong or reaching incoherence

Or achieving unmanageable density—destiny
As galaxies proliferate across the cosmos
In the intricacy of a roar

Quasars' tonal quality as they starburst
Free of the foreshadows that get dreamt up in retrospect when time
Luminously zooms seemingly toward the viewer's telescope

Though it's pointed toward the horizon like a microphone set to catch a distant song
The telescope like a long Tibetan horn catches time, then lets it go

 

 

n e x t

 

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