Close-up shot of green mossy tree bark.

Of course, tonight I cannot sleep:
too much reading, too much thinking—
quantum this, quantum that.
Sometimes, we are particles? Sometimes,
waves? I push off the blanket,
sit up in bed, glance at my beloved,
who proclaims, eyes closed,
wrapped in his sheet, Raise the main,
main sail raised!
Dream away —
obviously, your dead father finally
took you sailing. Enjoy. I look through
the bedroom window—no stars; just shapes,
shadows. Who is there? What do you know?
St. Thomas the Confusing wrote,
Find the five trees of Paradise;
then you will know everlasting life.

Game on, Tom; watch me. Watch me
wander out into dark woods; no flashlight,
no headlamp, barefoot; watch me dare
my third eye to shine. Maybe
I will lose my way; maybe new coyotes,
hybrid-wolves, enhanced DNA,
will start to track me; maybe I will
need to run; maybe rotted logs
will bloom roses as I pass.
I know white pines are still awake,
whispering—I want to eavesdrop, tree-
to-tree, press my ear to bark.
There are conversations I want to hear.


Photo by Joshua Mayer, used and adapted under CC.