False Awakening

Like any mortal you must dream
and die within your sleep again.
The clock is talking from the wall.
The flood is moving down the hall.
You wake and walk into the emptiness.
You drag your hair into the dust.
Your bed is made up of debris.
You give the clutter no redress
and wake and walk into the emptiness.
The end of the world looked like this
when blindness left the last blind man,
and oceans left one grain of sand.
You were born a corpse and myth
who died without a home or name.
So why are you not done with death?
Why can’t you even finish dying,
when will you have surmounted death?
Deep in the necropolis you’re dreaming
of departing with the dead man’s gold.
O honey in the heartland,
O douce campagna of the thing!
Beneath the evening suns you plunder
your fathers’ tombs and seize the wonder
of youth and love both drowning under
a cloud of fog with all that’s now too old.

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