Aubade with Headwaters and Dark Kitchen
What comes before
and after the fact
of my sleep:
I keep my heart at my eye
level so tyrants
have to bend to see
if its wild redness warrants
censorship. Even the light
seems lazy in its slug
-gish arrival these
longest days
of the year.
I need at least one
hour of darkness
before money,
before anything
is asked of me,
an hour when I feel nothing
can hurt me, this early.… Read the rest