Poet's Sleep, 1989, Chang Houg Ahn
And day, nights it's all the same.
The head falls still on a book or pillow-
the light or dark is turned inside out
no longer having dominion-
time is translucent and meaningless
here as images connect sentences
and bring story past or future into
a slice of originality-
the collision of mater,
the combustion of energy,
the flight of notion,
the confabulatory narrative;
which every poet knows to value
above the hype we wrap
in conclusion of reality.
From the red crinkled birthing center
one after one childlike thoughts slide
out of the head and if the waking poet
is quick to his pen, he may catch a few
and those that are not lost forever
become fodder for readers.
Michael Allyn Wells