Sleep/death
Karl Kerchwey once said, to a class of undergraduates, that sleep has power in poetry because it evokes death. Being twenty at the time, I didn’t really understand.
Now I see death frequently. And I work a demanding job. Sleep presents itself as a reminder of choices that must be made each day, about the balance between work, family, friends.
Though I believe he meant something slightly different at the time—that sleep requires surrender to an abyss, uncertain of the future—I think of Karl Kerchwey sometimes when I’m tired.
