I’ve Forgotten How to Sleep

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I am jealous of

lazy, sleeping men who take

the “standard” time to

 

Fall asleep in now

rather than blink endlessly

as the dawn prepares

 

I have containers

of salt, grit, cold metal dust

behind my eye-caps

 

I gaze slightly blind

around the soft chill of room

one, or none with sounds

 

Trickling throughout

streets ahead and beyond me

cities flying past

 

Middle Meadows Walk

By the clouds, by the stars
I am enclosed

Rachmaninov lifts me from the cement below
Whispering in my cold ears
His orchestra soars
Matching my magnified heartbeat

Half way down the path
My doppelgänger shadows smirk
I fear that I’ll turn around, hands in pockets
To see my own night-time figure peering back

My dark imaginings,
The gothic moon above,
Pulsing strings and deep blue dread
Beams down in Russian black

Everything crescendos
Until I feel my keys

And see the sodium street-lamps
Guide me to my door
With their golden, unblinking eyes

Tap


Under the belly of this plane,
mountains:

The piano keys I can’t quite reach
art I can’t quite let rain

(I would like to be drenched)
Cold in the bathwater

Me; a screaming baby
the tap left running

My infant call
hitting all the right notes

Save me a tune
save me from frostbite:

The familiar icy itch
of missed potential.

Do as you did in another song:
slam my talent into a door

Tell it to grow up, get drunk,
dance until the last rays of light

Then, after the funeral,
Only then

Is it allowed to sit shoeless on the porch
whisky in hand and

Exhale