Hypnagogia I stand alive in this moment on the earth; unseen by fingertips, denied by eyes, but I am a certitude of aluminum flicks and cesium flickers, the engine of a solitary vessel. No soil can keep me from traversing the edges of noctilucent clouds; my facile somewhere. I grasp it with courage and resolve, the last sail of sky, the lightness of thought and reason, untethered, emptied of stones and the thoughts of stones, outstripping sirens and cellos and songbirds until the deepness, stillness of a single voice slumbers in moonless expanse. I stand alive in this moment on the furthest small circles of transient shadow; breathing the light of half-past found, inhaling the repository of stasis and chaos, the magnificence of time, a righting, a rise, the unwashable beginning, until tiny claps of rain, dying and keen, dampening weeds, snaking toes and feet, the quietude hissing, chanting never and never, I was never here: a condemnation falling further than its lowest point. I miss the difference between living and breathing.
Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He has a wife, Vickie and a daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart nominee and a Best of the Net nominee whose work has appeared in hundreds of publications including The Louisiana Review, Bluestem, Emrys Journal, Sierra Nevada Review, Two Thirds North, The Red Cedar Review and The William and Mary Review. He has poems forthcoming in the Roanoke Review, The Alembic and Milkfist. His poem “Distillery of the Sun” was awarded second place in the 2014 Bacopa Literary Review contest.