Can dreams be real? They exist
at night — in the dark
ineffable phantoms haunting us
like hazy ephemera disappearing
when we watch too long.
No — I think of other dreams,
the ivory hopes spring
for however long we have. We write
them on the clouds until
we dream up something higher.
Are dreams real before
they come true? Does it matter?
I prefer to spend energy
Finding time to nap. Continue reading If dreams
The world has turned and left me spinning
time is thinning
and I am alive. I long to live
in the clouds, my mind
a head of me
among the billowing blanket of puffy cumulus,
a misty mystic world, delicate and wet
hinting at gray but not turning,
only pulpy white.
But mostly the soft outline of anticipation
traces my thoughts
not among the clouds but
thin whisps of moonlight spin
a web in windows obscuring – or
delaying – the world
where I go round. Continue reading Clouds