#811 - singing in someone's sleep

 

25.iii.22

811

3.84

singing in someone’s sleep

 

and far

so lifted

 

dark words

 

chorded as these colours are

 

there’s weather in the head

 

its own world spinning

its own spiral arm

 

where I am furled

 

the empty head

and bells ring there

 

a sapling springs

 

whistle up a tune

 

(the worm I mean

in the empty)

 

and some say

like a heart

pumped round

 

not mine

 

then the dawn

a pinking

stand, unfold

for some light

 

asking those questions

a path in the garden

where the day is home

 

flutter up and find