rip van winkle

who hasn't slept for twenty years 
in the wild dark woods? i mourn my waking like an animal. 
for so long sleep pressed her spider web face to mine.
fingers falling rain. ripening planets.
mars, the little apple. i used to be able 
to carve hollows in my own shadows. then, came nightmares.
blighted moon. corn husks full of eyes. 
my father telling me i need to keep moving 
from dawn to dusk. him as a bear. him as a woodpecker. 
now, here, orange suns chew my bones. there is sleep 
& then there is the world after. peeling moss from skin. 
where are we? where is the woods? how do i sleep again?