Before I star in my wake,
I’ll search for gourmet to eat,
circling my tedious work
before I lay down to sleep,
and dream fantasy escape
till it starts over again.

The repetition again;
when the sun stabs me awake
in time and space—no escape,
joy comes only when I eat
new poems before I sleep:
injected art always works

to survive ennui of work
looping again and again,
submerging spirit in sleep.
The cock crows early; I wake
startled, but settle to eat:
a metabolic escape,

really part of the same scape:
cosmos and quantum works,
wonders that I drink and eat.
Trivia offers a gain,
alcoves of awakening
out of the workaday sleep—

an amber trap: life asleep.
The social-net traps escape
from expectation—unwoke,
with no passion in the works.
No. I’ll not acquiesce again,
but fight the monsters that eat

autonomy like a treat,
shake the drugs that bring on sleep:
step into my life again.
Live in the moment; escape
drudgery, mindful of work
required for awakening.

Again; of earthly fruits, eat
—wide awake from numbing sleep—
’scape for staging the great work.