Where does my mind go when I lie asleep?
I know it’s somewhere, for just as I wake
the shards of it are lying in a heap,
a broken image where I cannot make
out any longer what it just portrayed . . .
or like a cast of actors who’ve just run
off stage, no longer in the roles they played,
the drama they were making now undone.
Perhaps to find out where and why it was
my dream has fled, I then arise and come
downstairs to sit like this to write, because
I’m near unconscious depths that I might plumb
discovering more about my vagrant mind
and how my heart and brain may be aligned.