Sleep

.
Between twilight and dawn
a breach in something. T
he 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

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