Nod

The neck slips into low-mind-clouds. closed eyes shutter nevertheless atop 2 blind cliff edges. The people of the United States are nodding off. It happens to all places – often We have named that ‘often’ – then & now. In other, much older realms, the people are deeply covered over, only slumbering between dreams. Nod with me, let the sky under your skull seep like a rising mist over walls and roofs. You will need poetry & myth, imaginative ways to travel. In far off places, men walk inside women and women rest in the menfolk. In the West we somnambulate through each other, seeing nothing, finding nothing to muse upon. The people of the wilderness know how to nod off the planet while leaning on a long stick. Nodding over the ocean waves the albatross sees everything. The world changes its face just before the nod, just before the neck muscles react to the head drop; that is the jump, go ahead jump with your chin on the breast of oblivion. You can nod to that former self that slumps now there in that mythical chair but then turn away, go forth & live a little.