Awaking

Guelph Dam


Last night I finished revising most of the poems. This morning I awoke feeling the return of last week's restless energy. With the concert past and a couple days to recover, my mind has returned to the chapbook. Tossing, I peered at the clock and couldn't believe it: 5:30! On mirtazapine, I'm always comatose at that time. I tried going back to sleep, but only succeeded in passing in and out for an hour.

Somewhere in the hypnopompic state, I decided "A community of lovers" should not be published in this chapbook. This had never even occurred to me last night, but was already concluded by the first lucid moment on the edge of my futon this morning. In fact, the three pages of poetry I've toiled over since last week have only been the seminal work of something much larger and unforeseen, though strains of it have been running through my writing for years. Something Witmanesque. I will likely include a few verses in the chapbook, a way of throwing down the gauntlet, demanding that my subconscious begin evolving this ideasaurus.

I have a headache from lack of sleep, but do appreciate when life divulges a sense of purpose.