I set to sleep and dreaming fast,
a nameless nothing in the dark
for light is coming on the other side
and the shiftiness of must-doings
and matter-making
and the bright and manic hum—
and wheel-making
and fidgeting and right razing
and all the remit of our race.
—and there’s a raft of doings saved
for me, with must I’s and mandates
from the sun —
so I set to sleep and wrap myself
in fantasies which dark and
muted friends have spun
and all that matters in the light
is unknown to me that moment there,
and I to it
for in the spinning empty
of the nothing-naught-without-of-day
is where my dreaming best
and all my bright
is done.
