The spirits conspire with the night sky to change nightmares to reality I could crave--flip book style.
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
i am sure the beat pulses from the lights, so i reach as i dance,
sure that if the two on the end weren't burnt out,
the light would meet my fingertips halfway
Before I stumbled in, eyeliner smudged and hair casting mad shadows, I had discovered truth.
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
it's not magic, only an 8 light strobe, two lights short
I re-read it
'i hope we will meet in my dreams. i am craving your thoughts.'
and fall into bed.
And so I wonder, the whole way here...
when you close letters that way,
is it my face or my thoughts that visit
you in dreams?
I wonder, too, if you know how when you're curled into that ball
, eyelashes resting on flushed cheeks, you
embody that peaceful rest cliche'.
If you don't, let me assure you--you do.
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
The sun pours in, you stir and I wake up was i sleeping?
to wonder where you went--until I remember.
I stretch and sigh...
As I dream, the sun is high in your sky.
you're a world away.
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
Oh, the regret of never reaching out to touch your face...
italicized, right aligned lines from somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond by e.e. cummings
merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
life is but a dream...