Insomniac Variations
The deathly quiet of sleeping people gives way
To the morning air
And my uncoagulated brain
Floods my skull and thrums and coats my lungs
And I breathe the vapor of my faculties
On every atom of daylight
Then it is almost noon and steaming oats
And dousing my senses in Sencha green
Almost breakfast on Avenue J
But skip the milk and hold the schmear
Then I whir with thoughts I forget
And night creeps up to me real quiet and slow
Dead hour softens my sparsest wit
Halts the cabs and the meetings
And the truth and men and tomorrow
And before I know it
I am a beginning
For a time there is time,
Yes,
For a time.