SLEEPWALKING
I walk through the silver path; I've more money than
God. I can buy your soul and shave your endings.
I can put your eye through the eye of the needle, or
needle your eye through the needle's eye; either way,
I'll pay you twice for damages. Something tells me
fate is coming down - soon - upon my head.
It's
something like the roar of an echo, coming back in.
I walk the silver path, rich, yet dead to everything.
-
In the yellow cavern where the mad dog is sleeping,
there is no movement, just noise. I watch carefully
so as not to disturb this quiet. The calm becomes me,
as much as anything else, in my occasional resemblances
to the sleeping said dog. There is a quiet to every
story - in the way it is spoken, in the things left out.
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