Song for the Somnambulist
I
A claret sky hangs up above, overhead,
Blushing at the coming storm's warm warning.
The heavily tempered clouds lightly tread
From the twilit night-spread to the morning.
I am restless, watching atmospheres pass—
An orbiting layer of glassy space,
An open window made of ozone gas
That closes by the wind's quickening pace.
Like a shadow, it adumbrates the stars—
The thick, transmogrifying veil looming.
The coruscating orbs cover and are
Lost in the condensing fog's consuming.
In my sheets, I try to sleep so soundly
In an abyss, absorbed so profoundly.
II
I amble through the murky surroundings
Like a drunken, strafing fighter—
Disabled by my own confounding,
Gassed out like a broken lighter.
My collarbone and jaw lay slack,
Cracking against the cool breeze
That controls the unconscious sway of my movements.
I wander forward only to fall back
From the tangling tease
Of my utter astonishment.
In a winding labyrinth under my cranial hood,
The forested pathways of my thoughts wander.
In cyclical, circular landscapes I stood:
Trapped in past ideas, vanished in ponder.
A coagulation of vaulting occasions
Snapped against my senses
As a rubber band would on a plastic bow.
Helpless I was in the oneiric invasion
As my psychosomatic defenses
Melted like microwaved snow.
I followed through the tension
And tension followed through my fingertips.
When the ground dissolved, I found suspension,
Evading the pull of gravity's grip.
I felt feverish gliding
Upwards to find the stellar traces of heat
That only heaven could contain.
Spaghettified, my body dividing,
I was split in the search lifting my feet—
A part of me left in the aching refrain.
[...] Read more
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
