two poems from sleep not sleep
the round threshold
as he woke
his mind unbent
like the direction of light
coming out of water
straight was still
straight
but flowed from
a different point
he could feel
the weight of it
shift
like a weight of water
in an airless tube
even memory inclined
another direction
reaching back
the image was still there
but different
like rocks
on the bottom of a pond
moved
yet where they were
and he said I don’t think
the leaves are laden with color
so much as they fall into it
little by little like the dark umbra
of the lunar eclipse lingering
above its fading light
she didn’t respond immediately
as if to disagree slightly
but then offered
to make tea which she did
dipping the tea bag in the steaming water
noticing how each tea leaf
in its lucent cell clung
tightly to the others just before the moment
it gave its briny efflux
spreading flavor
we expect from tea which she served
still saying nothing