76. Three Parts of Night
a. oh
plangent
what agent of what
emotion and sound
moving through night tonight and light
coming behind me, seems like sunshine,
feels like rails, feels like metal rolling on
dark and steely, wet with sweat, evening buzzes with desire
thrumming buzzing humming calling thrumming buzzing
humming calling, every insect, every voice, every rubbing
found in darkness something black, something heavy as regret
night not sleeping, and the cold slips in, heaving hammers, heaving rocks
sending out these rumbling shocks, night knot sleeping, and the cold begins
to overtake the summer’s sweat, something heaving comes unsheathed
and the blackened night comes in, dragging dripping burlap sacks, hauling
sleeping putrescences, evening comes like burning skunk, evening comes
b. aye
I do not sleep
nothing to keep here
nothing to keep spare
and I would wear on bare skin the softest fleece
the color of light at morning, the color of seeing
I would wear against my bare skin another skin
my arms are rivered with blue-green veins of blood and bleeding
what runs through them both blue and green bleeds out red and
the bed that holds me in its arms, the bed that rocks me like a stone
doesn’t mind if I must bleed, doesn’t mind the blood of me
sheets of faded fabric wrap around my arms, around my back, hold me in
so I won’t move, so my left arm can’t twist away and try to write another play
about a man who cannot sleep, about a woman sleeping through, about a woman
sleeping through, about the man who cannot sleep, about the woman sleeping
through the night around me like a sack, the way I went to go right back
c. me
pleasure
the pressure against
the place where it is
what I play with when I dream's
whatever’s missing from my day
whatever’s nothing more than hers
a heart can race but never run, a heart can make
a body be a thing that moves, and pleasure’s beat
it makes me move, without any sleep, without
any way to make myself keep it, out of the night
back into sleep, first into sleep, and the mirror will show me what I can’t be
five hundred shoes for her two feet, and the wall of the shoe store opens forth
hook on the bra not on the brastrap, and there are no breasts in a dream of night
cars on railings, cars on ramps, everything’s moving everywhere, everything’s
everything, no despair, and I am still, and I am still, and I am sleeping still and calm
plangent
what agent of what
emotion and sound
moving through night tonight and light
coming behind me, seems like sunshine,
feels like rails, feels like metal rolling on
dark and steely, wet with sweat, evening buzzes with desire
thrumming buzzing humming calling thrumming buzzing
humming calling, every insect, every voice, every rubbing
found in darkness something black, something heavy as regret
night not sleeping, and the cold slips in, heaving hammers, heaving rocks
sending out these rumbling shocks, night knot sleeping, and the cold begins
to overtake the summer’s sweat, something heaving comes unsheathed
and the blackened night comes in, dragging dripping burlap sacks, hauling
sleeping putrescences, evening comes like burning skunk, evening comes
b. aye
I do not sleep
nothing to keep here
nothing to keep spare
and I would wear on bare skin the softest fleece
the color of light at morning, the color of seeing
I would wear against my bare skin another skin
my arms are rivered with blue-green veins of blood and bleeding
what runs through them both blue and green bleeds out red and
the bed that holds me in its arms, the bed that rocks me like a stone
doesn’t mind if I must bleed, doesn’t mind the blood of me
sheets of faded fabric wrap around my arms, around my back, hold me in
so I won’t move, so my left arm can’t twist away and try to write another play
about a man who cannot sleep, about a woman sleeping through, about a woman
sleeping through, about the man who cannot sleep, about the woman sleeping
through the night around me like a sack, the way I went to go right back
c. me
pleasure
the pressure against
the place where it is
what I play with when I dream's
whatever’s missing from my day
whatever’s nothing more than hers
a heart can race but never run, a heart can make
a body be a thing that moves, and pleasure’s beat
it makes me move, without any sleep, without
any way to make myself keep it, out of the night
back into sleep, first into sleep, and the mirror will show me what I can’t be
five hundred shoes for her two feet, and the wall of the shoe store opens forth
hook on the bra not on the brastrap, and there are no breasts in a dream of night
cars on railings, cars on ramps, everything’s moving everywhere, everything’s
everything, no despair, and I am still, and I am still, and I am sleeping still and calm
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