DIPPING THE DARK


                       Expelled from a shaft of sleep, gnarled
                       Between sweaty linen and wilted petals,
                       Sour breath, cracked throat
                       Searching for the thread of who I am

                     
                       My mind shivering like a plucked string,
                       Murmered dreams slurred
                       Over the sands of wakefulness
                       By the dark river of sleep

                       Arid thoughts dipping the dark, cast out,
                       To barb the four corners of my room
                       So that the rain will
                       Not sting inside and out

                      Tense in flat, white limbo, the space,
                      Between two black dials, I am suspended,
                      The marooned clock hand
                      Slugging the arabesque of time        

                      It's that time again, I am a crude sensation
                      Spiralling down into macarbre meditation,
                      Further than I have dared to go
                      Into my own endlesness

                      Like a gutted candle, I have burnt myself,
                      Down into a cavity from which I can
                      Only stare up into
                      My own absence