by cleothedog


If I
could count the silence
I could sleep, sleep.

But it
is one, one. No head even
to gnaw. Spinning.

If I
could halt the glazed
spinning, surface of glass,

my mind
could shove in its fingers
and break apart

the smooth
singleness of the night—
until sleep dropped as rain

upon me.

— William Carlos Williams (The Pink Church)