Tell me why I’m tired?
Where did I go in my dreams?
Did I fly,
walk,
fall into an abyss,
crawl servile with fear?
Did life weigh on me
like a stone?
Did I sink to the bottom
of a sea,
and stay cold forever?
Out of place on my desk
are fires,
glimmerings,
little poems,
epiphanies,
a secret diary of meanings
that are geologic.
Love hidden in its riddles,
and the plainness of blank paper,
with the light
of a clear conscience.