IT'S 3:23 IN THE MORNING
by Drew Dellinger
It's 3:23 in the morning, and I'm awake
because my great, great, grandchildren won't -let -me -sleep.
My great, great, grandchildren ask me in dreams
what did you do, while the planet was plundered?
what did you do, when the earth was unravelling?
surely you did something when the seasons started failing
as the mammals, reptiles, and birds were all dying?
did you fill the streets with protest when democracy was stolen?
what did you do
once
you
knew
I'm riding home on the coma train
I'm riding home on the coma train
I've got the voice of the Milky Way in my dreams, I have
teams of scientists feeding me data daily and
pleading I immediately turn it into poetry
I want just-ice - con-scious-ness reached
by peoples in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech
I am the desirous earth equidistant to the underworld and the flesh of the stars.
I am everything already lost
the moment the universe turns transparent and all the light shoots through the cosmos.
I use words to instigate silence
I am a hieroglyphic stairway in a buried Mayan city
suddenly exposed by a hurricane
a satellite circling earth finding
dinosaur bones in the Gobi desert.
I am telescopes that see back in time
I am the precession of the equinoxes
the magnetism of the spiralling sea
I'm riding home on the coma train
with the voice of the milky way in my dreams.
I am myths where violets blossom from blood like dying and rising gods.
I'm the boundary of time, soul encountering soul, and tongues of fire
It's 3.23 in the morning, and I'm awake,
because my great, great, grandchildren won't let me sleep.
My great, great, grandchildren ask me - in - dreams,
what did you do, when the earth was unravelling?
I want just ?????????????????????????)????????????????????????????????????????????????????????((??((0