Dream Bits

Every dream is pinned by the long diamond of a woman’s breath.

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It is Night and you always wear the same gown to Day’s wake.

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Night’s weak and breathless felony is jailed even as unclean brilliances convene once more, their all-white juries to overthrow a black romance.

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Across the white arm, sleep.

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Sleep has one syllable, and that is excessive.

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All dreams form a continuous flesh in which we are pores.

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Our dual nature in relation to the dream: we are the absence of dream, and we are conduits of its essential function, which never depends upon our position, but upon the position of the dream. We are either useful or we are not—to the dream.

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It does not matter how deep you dream: the water at the bottom is open sky.

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Dream’s retreating sugars leave a thick, black foliage. We render it into hair oil and nail polish.

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The coin of dreams has three heads—like that Greek dog.

Something About Keys And Leaves And Moonlight

moths in the pyramid like little yellow headache pills
and with sunshine well in hand we begin one hour of chosen light

distance (it occurred to me
dialogue) it occurred to me)

we hear the Mummy’s Ghost swimming

between the wetness of the towel and the wetness of you
allowance at each seepage point with a dollar and a gun

distance (it occurred to me
dialogue) it occurred to me)

we hear the Mummy’s Ghost swimming

as migraine’s butterflies bob amongst the archaeologists
singing something about keys and leaves and moonlight

distance it occurred (to me
(dialogue it occurred) to me

we hear the Mummy’s Ghost swimming.

The Brilliant Negligée

Once upon a Time
there was a Window Pane
sitting up in Bed drinking Cocoa
through a Porcupine Quill
which was all the Rage
in the Last Century.

                The Window Pane
lacked a Convincing Cravat
if you can imagine that.
He didn’t want to dress up
to go Upstairs
to the Farmland
behind the White Cooler.

                The Window Panes Brain
was one Cow dipped in Gravy
on the Farmland
behind the White Cooler.

                The Window Pane dreamt
of joining a School of Fish in the Sea
because he was transparent too.
Closing his Eye, the Pane dreamed
of opening his Eye in a Seaside Cottage.
It was always getting darker
though not quite dark enough.

                The Window Pane’s Sky
was Chalk and Charcoal
in a Brilliant Negligée.
It was always getting darker
thought not quite dark enough.