The night sings on

Words don't arise
from the vastness
of being
of movement
of the sky filled with cricket song
don't arise
from the vastness of all that is unseen
from darkness
from the shrill harmonizing
drone of a summer night
words don't arise
it is only the force of habit
tonight only the force of habit
the habit of language
I bring to this page
upon which I scrawl in purple letters
as the night outside hums hums
hums on
in the darkness of no moon
no mind no moon
as I lay curled on my side
upon the wooden floor
of Mountain Home Studio
the slumbering lady Mount Tamalpais nearby
lays dreaming in the darkness
and the night sings on
sings on--