Slumbers

A poet's slumbers restore perspective
best when he composes nothing at all
but lets go efforts to discover forms
in the fluctuations of warming breath

when, through the painted gates of dozing's town,
he lets himself go, lets go of himself
to dissolve into another or more
from that one that he mistook for himself

he restores a kinship that includes worm
and nudibranch hidden deep in the sea,
roving birds, trees in the courtship of time,
he becomes the natural of himself

I can't say why these words buzz and swarm so,
maybe waking I fail at letting go