39. sleep comes, when the moon is rising on the borders of my consciousness
sleep comes, when the moon is rising on the borders of my consciousness, you cannot touch or wake me, or i will scream & kick, my body trying to flick you off, i must be left alone, there is a great full moon rising, up over the dry horizon that has curved into dusk like a plate, the spiky grass receives a purple wash across its stems & the land brings on its low-down quietness, as the moon rises i feel like i am going under air, sinking down under its glow, & i cannot sleep, with its strange light on the outside of my eyelids, my heart is warm, sweet & breezy, full of the flutter of bats & droppings, never before have i been so alone than at night when the moon begins to rise up & swell, every night, the moon behind my eyes is full |