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The city dweller dreams
I write a lot of poems about the dream state so this section is dedicated to those. Some of them include that edgy feeling that comes when we let our imagination run wild at night. Writing at night has a secluded feeling about it.
| The spirits are sleeping | There is only | Twanging my base string |
| Late night TV | The girl who wishes for more | As close as I need to be |
| He sleeps tenderly | The moon shines in | Stirred up |
The spirits are sleeping
All the spirits are sleeping.
I feel no one beside me.
Perhaps I simply can not see?
Or they have abandoned me,
As an adult frees a child
Who can survive alone.
Who would spend each day,
Watching, waiting, breaking my fall?
I can’t think of anything more boring.
People often die just before their birthday
It’s as if the body wants to say
I can’t return to that.
There is only…
There is only this then
Sitting at a restaurant table... feeling depressed.
Some seventies funk pumps,
You wait for the food that isn’t.
Life is a little like this,
Full of duties they say
Will make you happy,
Then why aren’t you smiling now?
Did someone tell you it couldn’t be yours anyhow?
The fever gathers like a weight on your forehead,
You wish you were home in bed
But you drink the coffee that’s instant
And try not to think
What life would be like.. if you had your way
That thought makes you smile.
Twanging my base string
You playing me off key,
Twanging my base string
Changing my reality.
I am tired of the fire of men,
I long for my mother,
For long stretches and cool reaches
Where I can lie verdant.
No more words,
I seek sculpture,
Something the meaning slips into.
Instead I am surrounded by systems
Numbers that rank and order
They run and I chase them,
How I would like to erase them
To see instead a curve,
A dancing line, with no purpose
Except that it expresses
What it can at this point in time.
Late night TV
We choose our chains and lock our shackles,
Thinking that these things matter
Even though silence hovers near, empty and intense.
Late at night when the TV flickers
My breath slows but my mind quickens.
I know I am alone,
Wakeful yet dreaming.
Here I am no one,
There is no tomorrow,
No mention of redemption
Only a feeling of being weightless
In the act of breathing.
The girl who wishes for more
I see faces moving behind the glass,
Pixels of light swirl and contract
All reflecting changing expressions
Shifting inside this reality
My only companion is the TV.
Love that doesn’t crystallize
Into someone by my side,
The place where I reside is eternally lonely.
I can only dream of touch,
What it is like to give back love,
Sometimes the things we think should be
Are the things that never are.
I am sunk in a sea of sensation singing in the shower,
I am waiting patiently counting the hours,
Yet to live and survive to grow and to thrive
Means that I must let go
Of the dreams of the future that I took fore granted
That I planted under the snow.
Walk with your face turned upward,
Listen with your ear to the door,
Please say a silent prayer
For the girl who wishes for more.
As close as I need to be
I go to the edge of nervous compulsion.
This is as close as I need to be to that sadness,
It’s like a wall, a waterfall of tears
Through which I can’t see.
I need to have peace in my heart,
I want to hear but can not hear
The voices of angels singing.
What is the point of my lingering?
So this is not what I expected,
This is not what I had guessed,
Isn’t life still blessed?
I remember and peace comes in.
I see the blue sky and the mountains.
I want to be in this quiet garden
Listening to the wind.
I wonder why that bird has flown and I can’t fly?
Except by disappearing
Or going beyond betrayal.
He sleeps tenderly
He sleeps tenderly,
His baby face lost in flesh,
Crushed and lined by time.
There is the defenseless curve of his lips,
He sips from strange nightmares.
Shaking and twitching like a dog,
Crying like a human being
Tangled in his feelings.
Time is compounded and bounced like a ball,
When he wakes he won’t recall
Any of his dreams.
You will be left wondering what haunts him
What will encounter and reveal in sleep.
The moon shines in
Woken by a cold fear
I hear a sly breeze through the trees,
I feel a frost on my skin,
The moon shines in.
I remember this room in the morning.
My pulse is even my breath is warm,
Yet figments rise to my calling.
I am recalling all the secret destroyers,
Breath in, breath out.
I am in doubt and yet still the same
Twisted in shame without a voyeur.
Stirred up
I doubt I will sleep tonight,
Stirred up like a hive of bees.
These thoughts spin
Speaking with symphonic intensity.
The bucket of my soul kicked over,
Tilted and spilt.
I felt like someone had raised a curtain
To let me see the way,
Now I can’t live another day
Knowing and yet doubting
That it could ever be true,
That I could love you.
I am through with waiting,
Take me into leath, back into sleep,
To be like the princess before she was kissed.
I don’t want to feel you lips
Or see your eyes
I want to lie peaceful and calm