Posts Tagged ‘sleep’

I listen to music with the lights off.

It’s like being asleep,

like lucid dreaming–

aware of the sounds,

but only the sounds, the notes.

I close my eyes

and the music fills me up.

My ears are what hear it;

my heart is what feels it, and pumps

the feeling that is more than just one feeling

throughout my body

and my head is empty,

devoid of probing thoughts,

but quickly filled

with music

and feeling.

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when sun beams

brown to bronze

bronze and yellow

clock yawns ticking tears stick

sleep and grog wake with steam

wreath wake with sniff

eggs out basket yolk to china

table light bronze yellow

shimmer shimmer eyes

perk up perk up mug

drip sip dribble spoon

knuckles chime hold place

lean so stiff

slurp and blink

hand down on table yellow

bronze and yellow

because sun is greeting

Yellow fingers sweep the clouds away,

extend to brush my skin-

I feel the gentle, warm caress.

The world illuminates:

houses, fields, trees, lakes brightened.

Snow dissipates, ice dwindles in drips,

both glint all the same.

Here is the change

as everything wakes from cold slumber

and will stir into flower and fervor.

Ah,

so you’ve entered my dreams again,

not quite uninvited,

but you are not still-

yet- you are not vibrant.

You nod twinkling blue eyes toward me

and I feel my stomach squirm,

and am reduced to a pale worm

under those bright cauldrons.

You are a ghost

of the most high caliber

to invade such a space

where I would normally be well rested.

But when I wake, you’ll be gone,

light that filters red through my curtains

will reveal that. But of course

I’ll revel in you, because

that’s what you’d like me to do,

isn’t it?

You devil.

Something of majesty,

the forest encapsulated

in this tiger’s eye.

 

Lithing its snow-white feet

in my dreams, against murk

of jungle. Flames of pelt fly,

 

cinders soaring

to ignite this shadowland.

Morning is not nigh,

 

but fear before this

blazing beast

would be wise to flee.

That’s the way all fairy tales end.

That’s the way they died-

happily.

 

Snow White and her Prince

outlasted the dwarves,

but went out

without growing old,

and smiling.

Both were already pale

as corpses.

They could simply have fallen asleep,

but who would kiss them awake?

 

Briar Rose died

leaving heirs.

Her husband passed

before she did. She never remarried.

She had raised a King and a Princess

with her own golden hair

and lark-like speech.

Neither one inherited their father’s

battle lust. So,

she was happy.

 

Cinderella lived in luxury,

she died in a bed of blue and white velvet,

which resembled the sea, knowing

her sisters had bled

from their feet, and their eye sockets

had become infected.

Her stepmother died

one year after she married the Prince.

Her reign with the Prince,

who became a king

after his father spewed one last breath

like a geyser,

went without war.

And when she lay in bed

her gold slippers were at its foot,

and she saw her fairy godmother

hovering over her with a halo around her face.

Her husband did not weep

as she passed- eyes shutting slowly,

clams closing on blue pearls-

he sang.

He sang a lovely little dirge

about birds and a tree

and rising up from the Earth

as if flying,

and Cinderella died

smiling,

happy.

Windless stillness,

silence.

Sunlight slices through

dense clumps of silver.

Light perforated

only by gray, almost transparent

shadows- long and thin

shadows of trees.

The earth is wearing out its

white play-clothes.

They have gravel stains,

dirt stains,

and the beating heart

of its grasses is turning

as it enters REM sleep.

Earth is dreaming of when

she will burst from the womb,

naked and beautiful,

and will grow its emerald hair

long.

And will decorate itself in jewels of color-

blossoms

and leaves.