Poem: Late Awake

 

Late Awake

 

the night had my eyes.

it thought back.

shadows in mazes of

sorceries of what i hated

and lived in mist

cried into my face--

quested but nebulous

and touching me almost

here and there,

some nuzzle of feelers

inside a cloak of moths.

i was surely asleep

where nothing was dead,

ideals lured by the Id

and cannibalized in a cave,

jawbones of angels there,

too many guilts,

holes of taboos,

too much lack of wish-

fulfilled truth,

a speech that some audience

waited for my forgetful

self to say, loops of

déjà vu and failure,

sustenance, maybe,

a semblance of

a figment of presence,

but no power.

 

 

 

 

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10/5/24 ... removed a word