Celestial Hobo
For every remembered dream
There are twenty nighttime lifetimes.
Under multiplied arcs of sleep
Zombie existences become Existence.
In night's warped rectangles
Stormy bathtubs of wavy sex
Come hotly drawn.
Everyday, confused in desperate poses,
Loses its hue, to Dada prodigies of black.
There never was a night that ended
Or began.
from Solitudes Crowded with Loneliness,
New Directions
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