Sleep

Truth is a beast who loves her slumber

She falls into hibernation for vast stretches of time—

a powerful hibernation resistant to all but

the most potent and risky endeavors

to lure her from her deep sleep,

her most beautiful dream.

For we humans are like the dawn:

jealous of Truth’s beautiful dreams and

eager to wake her so that she may speak to us about them.

But what are words to a dream, a vision, an ecstasy?

Truth rises from her sleep

not without a grumpy disposition,

and is often not so quick to relate her dreams

as to roll back over and resume them.

We seek to make an offering and

succeed in reminding Truth of her dreams only

when we finally utter

our innermost thought:

and all thinkers spend their entire lives in search of their one thought.

But in regard to sleep,

we must keep in mind

there are many different ways to sleep,

and vast stretches of time can occur within finite magnitudes.

Take the case of music:

When music becomes for you an act of spontaneity

and not some thing that you can purchase,

or, for that matter, consume,

then you will understand my meaning when I say:

let the rhythm get the best of you.

Stomach

Some days gravity has the advantage

Resisting every movement, pulled

Down by nothing at all,

smoggy air thick with lies

In whose wake truth cowers and

Flees.
For truth stands trembling in the face
of even the most impotent fiction. 

And humbly I try to open my eyes

in light of the sun.

Some days my stomach, that father of gloom,

Digests everything with light feet

And all movement flows like a 

Record vinyl whose grooves

are never transgressed by the

harsh sound of a renegade needle.
For truth still stands trembling in the face
of even the most impotent fiction.

And humbly I try to open my eyes 

in light of the sun. 

Geometry

Time comes back to me

Opens up, talks about being free

From points and lines,

curves, circles 

all trying to settle into the right dimension. 

A point traverses from first to second 

only at the loss of itself, subsumed in description

A line finds itself most comfortable

in the first dimension, where

breadth has not yet made its unwieldy demands. 

But even lines seek their own source

and so become circles. 

The third dimension is where a circle

graduates to sphericality and 

becomes a child's favorite plaything 

Only later to be demoted,

rejected by the same child

When he learns how to calculate 

the area of a circle in math class.

Yes, geometry, that monolithic creator-destroyer,

has shown me its dual powers

To make real and make unreal

The ingredients of a world, 

its possibilities and its rules.