Sleepy

                                    The beds, the bedding

                                           and the need of rest.

                         The ground was tough, knotty

                                                              with weeds.

                Say it was all connected, hard to break:

                               a book and the closing sky,

                                                       somebody in love.

    She said these people

                      who love, they loose their names—

                                        we follow them around,

       we follow them around.

                      A key gets turned when we sleep.

          We are locked between the

                                         stale earth and the sky.

   The key turns the lock between you

                and you, the key turns the ground,

the ground is set each successive hour of the day.

                                                        I tell her we

                                  could see if something else

                        keeps us together,

                                    keeps me from stumbling.

                                                    To move; I move

                           like I was swaying.

                                    Like I was not made of this body.

                                               I was made of grass and

                                                           the ground belongs to me I

                              can give it up I tell her I want

                                    what I want I want to rise

                                               I want up even if

           I'm clacked and broken.

                   I want to go home in knots.

                           I want to wake up

                                         all worn out

beside you.