Ode to Insomnia

Ode to Insomnia
January 21st was the day I checked
myself into the Fall Hills Sanitarium.

I. As I was tired of the apocalyptic
buzz in my brain, and the stealthy
yet brutal visions of blue.
For weeks the old woman
had screamed warnings of
the pending catastrophic dawn
into my bloodshot eyes,
I’ll be damned if she’s correct.
So great night, I send forth the
citrus Gods & blind men:
for they hold the keys to my
pale kingdom.
And honor thy Mother who spat
you from dark womb into this
sensation called life!

Still, I can’t keep from this sound,
faint yet sustained.
Calling and shifting before sight receptors.
Christ, Buddha, Yahweh, what do you want from me?

II. Mind Vessel / will you
drive the great rhythms /
forward thru starless melancholy /
leaping between pillars / to my pillow /
while I weep.

III. Waiting now for someone to
collect scattered ashes
between this life and tomorrow.
Counting great temples to calm my breath,
still trying in vain to observe fragments,
like the blue ribbon lady searching soup cans
for the best date.