Vignettes from the Candelwood snooze tomb

by Kameron Cole, Candlewood Suites, Room 233. December 2011.

capped on either end by  minor harp arpeggios
this somnolent snooze capsule is a container, but also
a frame,
yes, frames
contain the art, framing  the statement discrete,
making integrity possible.
combining, then, elements of the sordid bed chambers – a dark green motel carpet filled
with lost Midwestern ambition to half-wake,
stale air, clung from the cage within,
withal, is a desire to remain half-asleep
to sleep a-full would surely be death.
within the snooze-frame I can build a dream poem,
composed only of eyes and sound
no sight, only vision,cotton-wadded:
blindfolded by the cloak of the pre-dawn,
am awake but alas not.
I compose, and am pleased, but can not repeat the performance. it is so papery without the snooze.
people would accuse me of performing water.