shafts of light
like low frequency
laser sight

highlighting fine
rotating specks

--all the matter that's escaped
the magnetic field of dreams…

I greet the morning like a specter
and, somewhere beyond my periphery,

there is a voice
that queries, How Am I?

I turn to search
the face for eyes

to find if I will
utter truth or lie

and decide summarily

"It's still too early to tell…"