I have burrowed under. It's warm here, But dark. I have hoarded memories of light And air, stacked them up against a bird Who tells me the time by folding himself Into sleep. Almost everybody has a family, A group of friends, and a blank wall If they're wise they keep behind them. I don't close my eyes to tell you the story, And still I can follow your breathing To where your game of concentration Has hidden the juggling rings. Come here.