But for now I will dream

This is a long poem that touches upon dreams and dreaming...

But for now I will dream in the dreaming:

Deeply I fall into her aftermath

As black crows call outside

And the night is crimson and dark.

Burning beside me the block-wood fire.

Her bike leans on the empty wall

Her dog has gone too.

Light streams through windows in the roof

On this amorphous emptiness

By her gone away

To the place that called her

Leaving me speechless and

Hanging on the receding tide.

Darkness creeps down invading

Burning beside the fire

Too filled alone

Surreal and conscious of this

While sensitivity breaks the dust

Putting out the turn

In another day of wonders

So climb back in the window

Uncork another vine

Smash the glass in my mind

In this place full of….

Crocodile hands reach

Where the blue dream spiders miss

The eagle flying high screaming from afar;

Wondering while wandering

Whose hand does take the past

Shifting, sliding into the mist?

All is raining cries the chaos,

But no one will take the shadow.

Well the witch grows a rose

And light snakes through the wall

As the scissors cuts the dream

Then something else is real

In the faint breeze that blows through

Droplet threads shimmer

In the early breeze

Ghostly houses asleep

Haunt the mist

With their

Chimneys reaching to the sky

Not yet light on the black tar road

Deserted

Somewhere a dog barks

From the bottom of a deep dark well

Its sound echoing.

Memories of other times

Like a faint something on the edge of forever

Stirring something.

Bottomless desire:

She revolted this sibyl

Mysteriously prophetic with her oracles

And her silhouette against the darkening sky

Tangential with the moonbeams and my wandering hand.

Desist, she uttered, you valentine vagabond

With your valueless words, inebriated heart and indigent soul,

Your Minoan desire is not for me;

I will not be drawn

Into your oblivion of obscene fiery possessiveness.

I was on fire with her scent writhing on the floor

I fixated on a plant, watched tendrils of lust.

She took pity on me then

Became the earth mother

Pulled me to her breast;

I was lost

Nothing mattered anymore.

Oh, do that again:

She cried

Then drank a bottle of wine

And decided the night was pleasure and

Didn’t have a problem getting to heaven.

Then went to Morocco

Crying

Do that again.

Lost in the rain of what came again

The memory

Oh, do that again.

Now a summer has passed

She sits in a garden

From anywhere he could say

Oh, do that again.

She whispers

He could do that again.

Image from Pixabay

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