Suspension

It's feeling like a summer night
and I was wanting to play outside in the yard until someone calls me in for the 3rd time to go to sleep.

Who can I play with? I consider whether I even can.



My present situation feeling too much
like a loose stack of sketches on transparent tracing paper,


I suspend some insanity
in a mixture of adrenaline and velocity

and afterwards, stretching beneath a tree,
I see the dark-bodied earthworms nudging their way above ground
like pointed tongues feeling out uncertain teeth

I lie down on my back in the grass
and realize that this is what I have wanted to do all week
If Tolstoy's right about how much land a man needs, I'll take this spot right here.

With my hands on my stomach, I watch the orange-shadowed clouds moving slowly through a starless sky.
And I mistake the bloom of a billion new leaf buds on overhead trees, catching the light from the lamppost, for stars.