Fay Slimm.

REVERIE.

 

 

REVERIE.

 

Between sleep and wakefulness
hangs morning twilight.
A no-time and no-where place
whose stirring shards, like hardened ice      
pierce warm languid sighs with cold.

 

Between dawn and reveillé
lies reverie\'s need.
A dreamless and drowsy state
with ideas, which like motes fly unseen     
to revoke sloth with short notice.

            

Between planes of rouse and retreat
yawns dawdle-dimension.
A pre-rise site of wait-machines
where doze re-uses slumber\'s intention
until liveliness takes control.