2:00 AM

2:00 AM

No dogs bark at this hour,

Desolate, an abandoned field burnt by the sun,

Dry shaving curls on a workshop floor long unswept.

Harsher than sawing wood, a motorcycle

Rips along a distant road, popping

Explosions in small packets sputtering

Bits of shrapnel, broken teeth,

Busted rivets, chopped up brittle, pits, tracers, short-lived sparks.

Slowly silence thickens, concrete putty sealing joints and crevices

Of a room deafening to the slightest vibration,

Hardening gradually, spiral candy.

The world is asleep, I am awake.

Passing time heaves, a resting animal.

Dimly, a behemoth of swarming thoughts like fireflies drifts past.

I wait steadfastly, a metal tool seeking the warm grasp of a skillful hand.

Now is the moment to enter into stillness

Deep as cloisters enfolding underground rivers,

Delicate as a tissue by the slightest cough perforated.

Before the smallest particle of noise tears like flint into gossamer darkness,

I will take long draughts, cupping my hands descending as birds into the springs of tranquility.

Street lamp at night