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Dream Elements
This is the language of reverse origami and water wisdom:
that in my dreams you slide into me effortlessly
just as Soma’s scenery acquiesces, opens to us without question
We do not gape, we do not ask for reason, here, where
meaning lies inherent in each orchestrated movement
suffuses our every skirmish from frame to frame
So, as we dance, our relenting limbs and identities
(even landscapes, forest’s sides, whole cities) cease to be
the moment we no longer need their storied settings
to fable us in a silent volume’s enfoldings and unwindings
These layers, peeled away, lisp-last with less protest than smoke
as what we want leaps to us before we think to ask
and our essential properties, perpetually near exposure
are only slightly difficult to glimpse and understand
Yet what I wake to
is a world of dry mouths and damp hands
surface friction and mere superficial taste
gleaned in paltry spats if I seek sincerely
and meaning lies ambiguously in
my dubious ability to worry math, fret tasks
sort schedules, key sets and knit names to faces
Here, I am always myself, no one else
just as you, there, seem ever to linger
stubbornly in a space in place, apart
which will not fold in to meet me
(never mind gracefully, never mind easily)
no matter how the morning’s lamplight beckons
------ "All the darkness in the world
cannot put out the light
of one candle"
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