“I would only like to repeat, you know, nothing else”
this afternoon
it’s impersonal, does not apply to anyone

All of you no doubt have felt
the soft sleep, the sweetest dizziness
easing you down on the bed

So obsessed am I with feeling
That I sometimes lose my way when I step free
From all the sensations I receive.

I’m going to make a poem out of nothing.

Heads up, false friends use familiarity as camouflage. 
In the source language deciduous might be confused with apathy, 
but nothing could be further away from desidia than the timed impermanence of leaves. 

News
has it that late in the month the sun had an outburst

It rises from childhood
like a humpback whale, water
streaming down the grill, 

The atmosphere surrounding you
reaches heights in which
it changes things

To begin with: I object to this line
of questioning. Custom holds that being

Port with the tossed deck, whipping
Sheep-bends between the coiled lines.
We lean. Our faith in bracing and ballast.