pillow of night and blanket of stars,
a mermaid swims and the spittle of the sea
pickles REM images in gray-green brine,
a coral complex of hallucination dissolves
in an ocean of unrelenting wakefulness
the mind tossed on waves, rides a
maverick of lost memories, spirit bobbing,
holding on through the night, aching
to do little but consort with dreams
© 2018, poem, Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day and The BeZine), All rights reserved.
I used to have “white nights” like the late E. M. Cioran, who forged an indictment of existence itself from his insomnia. This, especially the final stanza, captures it exactly.