Insomniac: Stage IV

Morning yawns stretching its arms  
To part the curtains of night opening
Tired eyes birthing the light from
Her expectant horizon.
Clean, cool fingers weave threads
Of sweet perfumed wisteria and more
Unnameable long forgotten blooms.
Clean and combed through dew damp air.
Buds nodding on their stems,
Draw blood from my veins with thorns
Like cat claws after a scare.

Suddenly clouds burst and showers fall
To save dry backyards and crops
Now cut away from the view unguarded
From natures reach over treetops.
Lost years and fences already raised
Desperate for mending and tattered.
Puddled earth evicts a few worried worms,
Plucked by the late risers from their
Broken ground. In solitary confinement,
Pacing across the yard I wave to the
Staff who service the world while I wait
As cubes and corners bustle in buildings
Where tight schedules and bright slides
Bore like radiation into the minds of
The thoughtless and the benign.

Rain long overdue this late afternoon
As sprinklers timed soak the lawn
The last rays motion with
Long, scolding fingers at
Now unknowable faded faces
Trapped like tonight’s fish for supper
In this morning’s papers.

Laid out on a communal table
Where wisdom and innocence
Convene to discuss the current
Events of still births and deaths
Hands engaged in wild with gestures
Waving forks and knives
So you get the picture
Interrupting for to flatter
The meat from a fatted calf
Cutting right to the heart of the matter.

The evening’s news flickers
Behind shades of shadowed windows.
Like a sober fly in a glass of whiskey
Wet wings legs spinning drowned
The hands its god takes it down.
Speaking loudly around the table

Solitude unwraps her arms thick
And strong to wave away what’s left
To every creature under the suburban
Sun that all fit on a single broom stick
Where no one bothered to count
What’s unseen, like angels
Atop a pin head. Yet we must believe
That stars still sparkle until the dark unveils
Who’s home and left behind
And their unearthly songs of grief.

Floating from branches
The yellow leaves fall
As night whispers to me:
Please save us all.
As the trees fade to black,
Wind whips my face and
Howls echo in the fringe
My mind can no longer feast
On life’s heavier things.