I dream so well, so deep,
sometimes I can’t tell the dreaming
from the living. The rooms are both blue.
Have you ever thought you awoke, only to
find you were still dreaming? The clocks
on the wall melt like Dali.
When you say I Love You, the words seem
slow. If I reach out to touch you, will you
still be there, will you still be?
like the empty hollow
growl of a stomach hungry, i lean into the sound of arms wrapping around me
oh i love how shallow
these men can be when confronted by such shiny darkened opportunities
ways – dreams
a glass mirror.
On the other
side, this small
reflects a certain
je ne sais quoi.
Watch your body
like your lover does,
watch your mind
smallest things like
dirt under nails.
Recognize yourself at
your soul’s oldest age –
we all have this ability
if we choose it.
no longer even a specter,
your memory has lost edges the way
a dried tear evaporates back into nothing
edges become a mist
elemental, invisible, and
while i no longer recognize you
icy hands move the hair from my eyes
while sleep alone steals time.
i want to be with the summer people
those girls with tangled salted hair
and men with shoulders tanned
want to sit among them with my
brine of loneliness, raise my
head to see the whole troupe crashing
naked toward the tides, moonlight
drenching – one man coming back…
some of our memories
like heavy silt find
a way to drop in a stream
like Haruki Murakami
might slip into a dream
chase a lost love | all
with every sleeping breath
a reaching sigh
a thought a desire
sends twisting sheets
Filed under dream, poem, poetry