Killer of Sleep*
Waiting stretched time
Which asks politely to be filled
By you and your thoughts.
They arise involuntarily
But need not meet the air.
Reaping what you sow
Is so last millennium.
But as this century may be our last,
It continues unabated by genetics,
Frenetics, or even the generously inclined.
Cover your words with your hands
Before action intrudes with imbalance.
A holiday from care stares
Into your eyes and cries for joy.
Shall we give it to her? That remains
To be determined by what follows here.
The train goes on bye-bye
Regardless of how many rocks you throw at it.
The ages of our perceptions cry.
Our trials are reversed by laughter.
Close your eyes. But be sure
To open them again. You
Owe it to them more than to yourself
To see.
The dogs of distinction
Follow you naked in woe.
What is Romania to you
When hot air interferes with love?
The weak side of walking requires
You show more or less attention to time.
The earnest howls of slaves make us lucky.
They aren't ours. We refused to be them.
Somehow, we succeeded. The sun agrees.
The map on your chest
Requires a floor to grow on.
Unnecessary details
Make our black sun shine
Punctuated by upbeat bursts of song
Plucked from some Requiem
Nobody knows anymore.
Go out the back way where the talk marched in.
Register your propositions with air.
It sings a clearer, different tune
Than you may have heard before.
Each time your bare attention listens,
A retrenchment can open up
A new panoply of action
If it knows how to sing on key
And does so not only when required.
Time may slow to a crawl
But its space still seems to expand.
The attention to everyday life
Rises to a new level of detail.
The sweet earth offers you its bounty.
No one counts it though many care.
As our grandparents turn into mud,
We triumph over invisible wars
No one had the time to declare.
Take the high way to the highway.
It responds by calling your name.
That sheepskin you save could be your soul.
The mathematics of intelligence
Adds up to a negative immersion in space.
If you don't remember what you did today,
Quit your job. Tomorrow will offer you
A garland you'll know well.
Are you happy? If so, you may continue.
Tom Savage
5/1/07
*Written while watching Killer of Sheep, a film by Charles Burnett
---------------------------------
Ahhh...imagining that irresistible "new car" smell?
Check outnew cars at Yahoo! Autos.
