Scribble and Strum

Between stations, my muscles'
Jagged vertical intensities,
Each distinct in their areas.
Weather roams settings
Dialed idly, turning toward what
I don’t know; can’t say.

Overall: Sagging, slowly melting,
Though interior’s a jumble.
Some pull, all power, sings to me
Like an A.M. lullaby
Early in the tired time
Of premise and preparation

And a question of power:
Can I? Should I? Will I
Get away from this lethargy
And subtle soul-letting?
Lullaby dulling, its catchiness
Contagion to courageousness, killing.