Bitter Water

I cannot sleep
pounding chorus of crickets pulses
blood ringing in my ear.
Night hastens its boney hand
Seizing the light;
Making captive all promises
Of delight.

It does not leave in dreaming.
It buys back these brief contracts from nothingness.
It speaks in voice undead from a whited grave.

Names etched on the stone the hard wind cannot smooth away
An island amidst the chopping waves of broken speech---
Cracked bridge/fractured boat
Bitter water gathers, slinking stream,
Ashes and pale distillation.

All at once one tries to think
Neither wakefulness nor dreaming.
Unrelenting toil
Pounding out our days from dark zero.
All of these things win back our world
No better than yesterday.