sleep funny

I overslept on the first of September

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sleep funny

I overslept on the first of September
like if Sunday were a month
summer's embers backward bending

I dreamt of the light changing and how the missing's never-ending
 for once not the destiny I prolong under the lazy legs of my afternoon long
not the words I say and always write forever wrong 

except I'm still writing this in in October
as the world gets older and marigolder 
I ask         what's the difference between sad and sober
what's the win       in November when I'm lost
when I'm cost 
and feel love is so epically star-crossed
On the altar of a face I never lost I lay alms
open my arms and beg my palms read the same as the stars    

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