Sun of the Sleepless


Sun of the sleepless eclipses
with bleeding fingertips each eye’s
inconvenient glimpses these frames
from behind some dream’s projection

he finds following him those nights
when need mines visions it misses
the point to even film this to
begin with, that is, connection

exists between what’s been scripted
and this version of a life lived,
this existence which is his best
attempt at forgiveness for blame

          by strangers misplaced on his bed’s
          expanse of mattress they defame.


Taking in as each vanishes
what, on waking ashamed, he wets
with litanies of kisses laid
in the cooling place those wresting

from regret pleasures requested,
those pleasures he gives when he gets
from these men more than respect, lets
them pretend before auditions

end that enactments implicit
in each transaction’s contract are,
in fact, not so expensive as
being so tactless as to take

          when tasting fame what ellipsis
          and blank space imply not to say.