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All night authority

cosmo

 

Pound: Although I have not yet met her, my wife will occasionally murmur before sleep, not a single voice but many, like the grumblings of a parlor of thieves with less than a pound of rare coins to divide among themselves

Once acquainted with the math they will scheme for life, and this will either move through the closet’s tones, or our children’s bones

Or, not many opposable voices but rather a layer-cake fugue, the musical rumors of all my bored ambitions,  annoyed from lack of sleep and all these parasites sipping from their red brimming eyes,

one taste of sleep and they are tone-deaf for life

 

Outside in the dark yard, a horse reaches for the low fruit between yawns, but the wind lifts it just out of reach

 

H.D:  Apparently, the universal feature of night terrors is inconsolability:

like any self-loathing imagist,  wide awake with all available commas already at play in manuals and contracts;

like any bouquet-bound gardenia, forgetful of all true associations, or unsupervised arrangements, with Freud, God, or otherwise

and no nights’ empire shall have authority over any who sleep here