Waking Up at 2 a.m.

As if the limit were two choices! –
sleeping, waking –
too much else is creeping, taking,
peeping, quaking, seeping, baking,
leaping, shaking, steeping, raking

in the spoils
amid the coils
and currents and synaptic zaps
of the enormously availing mind.
The thing is not to try to dream,

but rather undertake to glimpse
the largeness of the scheme
then give it up –
and let it go –
so you can stow your reservations

and sail off into the conjugations
of your hungry soul:
a seamlessness from dreamlessness
to waking life inside a boxing ring:
from hunch

to punch –
from creaming sweet oblivion
to steaming heat: lasciviously
mean and blasting –
to the polar regions

of analysis
where you are frozen –
perfect – whole.
Eat it all
and lick the bowl.


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