A Journey to Formless

I hang up, once again,

my coat of consciousness

in exchange for 

sleep’s tar blankets

to suffocate noise

in smooth, heavy darkness,

with only dreams to stick.

But just before slipping out,

in those moments, 

between the push of life

and the pull of sleep,

my mind rests its work,

and the unsafe questions

slide into my narrow awareness,

mostly about time and death

and people I love who are

no longer bodies

but something else 

as thin and real as 

this dangling moment, 

which can’t be held

or manufactured

but has been placed 

in my sleepy palm 

so that when I awake,

I can remember again, and again,

there is a place

beyond my thought

which is my destination

and the new day’s arrival.