Know Your Audience

There’s something there
In your sleepy head,
You sleepy head,

And once again,
You let the sun
Reach through the trees,

Through the bronzed woods,
Through the forest—
Once again you

Are composing
While you’re dreaming,
Really dreaming,

Actual dreams,
So it’s a game
In which you try

To hold abstract
Lines together
While voices lost

To you for years,
Voices never
Heard through your ears

Are whispering
In the dry leaves
Of late summer—

What do you want?
One of them asks
You, who might be

The one asking
Long lost readers,
What do *you* want

To read? Can’t you
Feel from these lines
That you’re dreaming?