starshine

and it's 4:51 and i'm awake again
still
awake i think i'm always
awake or maybe i'm
always sleeping
i can't tell the difference
between waking and
sleeping and dark
and light and when
is it the
daytime
when the moon
he smiles at me and
beckons me closer
and closer still
and holds me
in his gaze
or was it the
night-time
when the clouds
they made shapes
and held hands
and giggled and
called out for me
to join them and make
shapes and be free
i think maybe it's
all the same and the same
is different which makes it new
but nothing varies
so it becomes
older yet this moment is not ever
like the last one, but maybe the one before it
or it could be brand new
then you'd never know because
we can never remember because
what? we're only human
and can only percieve
just so much
with the 10% that we are capable of.
who is to say really what is
new or day or moon or sun or night or old
surely we will never know

and it's 5:00 and i'm awake still
again
and the man in the
moon he
was beckoning me but
i looked away for just a moment and
now he's leaving me he's
hiding behind the
weeping willow but maybe i can still see him
through the low swinging branches
and short gusts of windy breath
i looked away for just a moment and now
he's leaving me
i thought maybe
he might have loved me
even just for a moment
he did call out for me to join him
in his orbit
or my orbit
or something that orbits
but i see now that he didn't really love me
and he's dipping lower behind the willow tree, hiding
still i thought for maybe a moment or two
or 34 moments something timeless or
transcending of time
he may have loved me.

and it's 5:06 and i'm awake again
still
and i guess that the quilt above me
scattered with patchwork and things like
star-shine and aeroplanes and planetary movement
well i guess the quilt, she's always
illuminated
but now maybe she's a little bit lighter than she was
before but then again maybe not, because really
who can tell and who is to say really
what is what and such and such and so and so
because yr mother told you so.
as my starshine aeroplane quilt slowly drifts
away from me i can see
pre-morning-time clouds awakening and beginning to
stir and swirl and wave good-morning good-evening to all the little
star-shines who blink and yawn and stretch their little star-shine arms
above their heads and ready themselves for slumber
and the blue-birds and robins and sparrows i can hear them
as they wake and call
good-morning to the swirling twirling clouds and
good-evening to the star-shines and to the aeroplanes
so maybe it is morning after all
but who is to say, really?

and it's 5:13 and i'm awake still
again
and it seems that things appear more clear than they may or may not have been
before and maybe i am more
lucid or perhaps less
but i can see now the trellis on the back fence
and the climbing ivy and the weeping willow
i can see her branches more distinctly
and she is beautiful and serene and melancholy as ever
before i could see the ends of my finger-tips, maybe
and the ashtray overflowing next to me
and the willow across the yard
with the moon peeking through, keeping his distance
and now i can see the oak tree
where it has grown through the eaves of my bedroom because
maybe you planted it a little too close to the foundation
or maybe because it just wanted to be closer
and a part of the love in this house
who is to say really. what the oak tree wanted

and it's 5:21 and i'm awake again
still
and the crisp new air
she is biting at my too pale cheeks
and now that i am thinking about it
my finger-tips are cold like the washroom tile is
coldest when you step out of the bath
but i know that my finger-tips are still moving and
working and fighting and creating because
i can hear them or rather i can hear the
clickety-clacking of my shiny red lacquered finger nails on this old
keyboard where it sits with me on
old and grey-ing wooden steps in this
post-midnight pre-dawn moment that is eternal and finite

and it's 5:26 and i'm awake still
again
and i can see just one lonely little starshine
still twinkling and winking at me from the
almost blue
quilt that covers us (me and the beagle and the weeping willow and
everything and also you, because you are here too)
this rebellious little starshine she does not want to
go to sleep
or maybe she does. who is to say, really.
perhaps she can't. or maybe she's just forgotten what the difference is
between waking and sleeping and dark and light and when it is the
daytime
and when it is the night-time.

i see you, starshine, and i know you and it's okay.
he almost fooled me too.
you thought he loved you so
you came when he beckoned you into the
sky and then when he began to slip away
and hide behind willow trees and ivy'd trellises
you were unable to unentangle yourself from his
cursed quilt.
and now starshine, she's forgotten what the difference is
between waking and sleeping and dark and light and when it is
the day-time
and when it is the night-time.

and it's 5:34 and i'm awake again
still
but this is okay.
i see you, starshine, and i know you and it's okay.
he almost fooled me too.