— with a nod to Vladimir Mayakovsky & Denis Johnson
midnight, or eleven pm, or four am
times I wake & wait & turn over the phone
to see how long until the hour I’ll rise
the cat prowls on & off the bed, purrs
or sleeps, rattles a drawer handle, sprawls
at an open window to peer into the dark
not dark, it’s never dark enough for more
than six or seven stars, spotlights on poles
in neighboring backyards, not dark nor
quiet, the mantra chants inside my head
synchronizes my breath, takes me away
to the land I inhabit with all my lost
once children, once lovers, daytime
acquaintances, nighttime friends, & strangers
intimate adventurers in this livelier world
of challenge & touch, elaborated living space
voyages under & over water, sky, & ground
with & without luggage, crises of misplaced
beings, inoperable devices, bound feet
clandestine, urgent, sweat, wounds, fear
without constraint, a musty hole, a bare field
mystery, stark emotion, heartbreak
the great blue heron coughs, songbirds
twitter, tree frogs whistle, cicadas scrape
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