A rainbow unweaved

Falling asleep, we’re lost at sea, each swell of the surface is a pull from the deep,

every second threatened by a silence waiting to claim the music that lingers in shivering vibrations…

…light plays games with sound-waves; a spiderweb stretches across darkness as we segue into dreams.

For hours we remain there where time has no significance.

In the morning, when the mind emerges – a butterfly crawling from its chrysalis, given the gift of one day to live – you will tell me your dreams.

They are sometimes mundane, but often they are strange & beautiful:

a flock of birds somehow derail the train taking you to an unknown destination, but you escape from disaster by leaping out of a window & land softly in a meadow of wildflowers.

I don’t speak about my dreams.

I don’t speak about disturbing scenes of eating glass as a crowd attacks & tears the flesh from my bones with their hands,

or

a desert that doesn’t grow, but moves slowly forward with the eerie movement of mist…

Last night, I had a dream, that poetry still mattered & you presented me with lilacs as behind you the crowd demanded answers, but we calmed them with elegant words.

Then I awoke, smoked four cigarettes, showered shit dressed

& went to work.