Hypnagagia

I said I'd never be another church boy with
a broken spine I said
we ought to spend time near the grass and the
shade of tomorrow's catalpa and drink more
water and I promised myself I'd ride my
bicycle every day but it rusted and
I didn't take enough care of it
I said I'd write to you often and
despite myself I said I'd still pray
but that never happened and I
forgot cursive and the paper crumbled and
my desk became a stiff place that no longer
seemed warm I
lost myself when I crossed Walt Disney and
Walt Whitman and that has gone on for years I'm
always tired and there's a constant quiver in
my arms and gut like orgasm craving ache but
there's no pre-teen gift for me to remember my
caving and no chest to crawl into and
no human to inhabit and I left some
soup on the stove but it became
dusty and filmy and the windowlight burned a
hole straight into the pot - a cup a carrot a dish a
plane a place to seek a new name, one of Twelve
to choose from but I'll always be
merry
because I always fall asleep eventually