Thursday, August 12, 2010


in moments before waking
the blank, the void, the blessed repose
general feeling of all is all there is
loop of non-linear bliss
walking, blank-faced through clothesline rows
of fresh-washed bedsheets
warm and sweet as a day in the sun

long, soft flight of strangely lanky shorebirds
built not of this world, nor nature
but of your nature, mine too
drifting and pulling
drawn by logic of memories and supposition
instinct of buried thoughts, surplus impulse
their nightly flight subsiding - soon
in pools of shallow tide

and you
your daytime self
poking your head from the earth
fresh as a pea sprout for that single second
that same warm emergence
a smell, a sound, a thought
for a minute, unrecognizable
thin membrane unfolding
easy landing
welcome home

question: good morning?

mompoet - awake

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