asleep, awake

. . . and what is the purpose of . . .

bee in a terra cotta garden, photo by debora Ewing

asleep, awake

catbirds are cursing me
out over the patio
into the azalea
of what purpose is this life?

awake, asleep

the inner world unfurls
tactile data as fortune-cookie
folded extrapolation
dreams spiral as fractal regrets

and what is the purpose of
waking up again
if every permutation of this
world is unchanged

asleep, awake, the same