nightwind

				1	

in this wind the sea is a constant roar
no ripping and lull of discrete wave
breaking peak to trough on the outer reef
exploding with shocking whiteness
into the limbic void between our temples
wave upon wave furrowing the mind
as if thought were a set of wild impulses
arriving ready made from a powerful storm
unseen but manifest with anvilled validity
incessant as a blacksmith hammering
catching us unawares in a doze
a sudden drumroll yanking us awake
striking fear and awe at the same time
like the scream that jerks us awake
to face the colorless car of death
we have crossed the centerline to meet

no, tonight the sea is a constant roar
dull forgettable reminder of local humdrum
no train or bullet or flash of light
just the insistent constancy of nature
blurred to indistinction by fatigue
such that sleep becomes a simple thing
uninterrupted by external impulse
but torpid as the sunless deep
from which dreams emerge like blood
from the furnace of a calm heart
forming long-obscured connections
untangling logic concealed and confused
by the endless patter and wash of the senses
things occur that we could never evoke
friends we have crossed off our lists
appear with words that freeze us
we understand our callous stupidity
lovers entwine us libidinously 
and bite off our lips with rabid teeth
we pull weeds in the gardens of our mother
and hack up our fathers with butter knives
and stuff their limbs into insinkerators


				2

intuition and revelation 
all wrapped up
in the wind's direction
hot breeze, cold blast
moist wind, bleak
north to south
west to east
upon its lips
are the voices 
of the world
spoken mellifluous
or raspingly
with howl or whisper
blue or gray
sunny or storm
strikingly crisp
or devoid of form
active air
seed of creation
whipping a flag
to spur a nation
we hear it blustering
our useless words
even as we catch
the faintest humming