I hear the star and moon language,
especially when I am not listening.
My sleep will sometimes bring me
an ecstasy, but some nights
become like a dark rough sea.
It’s when real death and pretend
death look the same–when all
I think of as myself is missing–
that I begin to hear the unknown
stories. They sound ordinary but
have no immediate light. Then
I awake, refueled with dreams.