SOME NIGHT AS TIME GOES

lying on your back amid the swell
searching for a map in what sky
or roof or ceiling provides
or an imitation with no limitations
to the known caesuras
in some American source of opinion
       that regards the whole as a doubling
               over of its parts, not merely classical
           in its fine metonymies but attentions
pigmented as essential
in what is not one's personal concern
implies great and continuous risk
orderly as the old books of tables
become inflexible and changeless
lengthwise where the ceiling fissures
might prevent a clear view of cloud or sun
in that line separating structure from function
& to bring down the prospective offerings
might suggest a restive equivalent to
the eyes shut once more, dreaming,
possibly inching toward some kind of breath