In Defense of Insomnia

The night is over half, and draws me down,
compels me to ritual, shutting out
the scene outside the window, powering
down the hard drive, the speaker, the lamp,
the tools of the brain,
these the half-over night compels me 
to set down.
But how can I set down the rest?
Ask me to plug my ears and lock my eyes,
and keep still my tongue, which might taste 
night air through the window,
and I will do it all, for sleep,
but how can I rest?
I can feel it through my teeth,
that the clouds are stirring, that springs
from the sky are brimming!
Hide it from my sight and silence the billion explosions
and still I will be eating it up,
still it will seep through the window,
insurmountable, delicious storm.
Or perhaps I sense the sun of starlight
on the horizon, the dawn of night
rising fast, hastening to double my days.
Would I not
feel that?
And if such secrets are stirring,
what possesses me to sleep?

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