Monday, October 03, 2005

5 am Journal
5 a.m.
sleep is evasive
so i fret away the early a.m. hours
hoping to fall into a deep sleep state
no dreams, please no dreams
of running to something,
trying to find something
always moving towards
never arriving
i wake up exhausted
5 a.m.
time to greet the day
dragging the night behind me


1 comment:

Not Cliff Geertz said...

Watching a film about early fur traders, the narrator mentioned that the guys would park the canoe and build a trading post wherever they happened to be when winter hit. They'd wait it out from November to May in a little 2 or 3 room building. There are several aspects to that that are questionable, but hearing it while I was thinking about your poem clarified the different mental states of this time and that. I identify with the urge to keep moving towards something: in dreams, in plans, in my sense of time. Yet it seems impossible that these fur traders cooling their heels for half a year in isolation could feel that same pressure or forward motion. They would have needed a patience I can't even imagine.