Resurrecting dead sleep's sculptures

Resurrecting dead sleep's sculptures
is a no good occupation
yet the only one
I can afford

I've changed my rooms
beside that
I'm still alone

the rippled faces come always near midnight
pacify
soothe
& promise
death's beauty

come shinin' through green curtains
& a strange delicate sun's
last red
spasm

you've changed your clothes
beside that
you're still empty

a little red ball that's jumping up
round
ironic
no, not the sun...

clawing at poetry's high door
while having nothing to offer...

I'd rather remain alone
I really like this new room

the rippled faces keep callin':
spirits of my true lovers