Sleep

.
Between twilight and dawn
a breach in something. The world stops,
but for furiously unintelligible flashbacks
which Dylan wrote songs of, as poets do.
Episodes. Earth turns. Collapse of reason.
Stuff that delights or rips the fabric of distraction
A space in which nothing mounts a hyphen
regardless of tock or tick
and whirls a lasso cipher round his head
heading a posse of fear & mirth
chasing unherdable cats across a crevasse
like the one that divides forever’s deaths & births
behind night’s scenes galloping

galloping from first to last

.
by Jim Culleny 7/10/13