432 and 433

When sleep is a far-flung and hapless hope,

and every sleepy strategy is gone,

be not afraid to try the tired trope

of starting an adventure with a yawn.

It’s just like waking up—you yawn then, too,

before you chase sleep from your door for day.

The night will soon also invigor you

(and if it can’t, you’ll soon sleep anyway)

So venture forth, if dreams don’t call your name,

another does: th’obscurity of night.

Be safe, be smart, be sensible the same,

but if you mustn’t dream, at least delight!

For all the best book chapters I dwell on

begin with one who, too, stifles a yawn.

~~~

I’ll be the sophist for your every fault

for one Good thing at least you’ve done for me.

And watch now: not all things called Good have salt,

but from what I find Good I will not flee.

I don’t call Good what gladdens merely me,

but what I could defend before a court

of gods and angels who all things can see,

and see what bad, for Good, you could retort.

That’s Good. That you could put some bad away

and do some other thing, less good for you,

and Good in quite another kind of way—

Good for the less Good-given around you.

So I’ll defend with sophistry the heart

that practices that Godly, Goodly art.