31. Twilit

 

the cherries exceed the need | for trees

something dark in them | a cool scent

the plane reacts | against the wind

nothing falls from the sky except light

I don’t recall | the space between thinking

can you remember it? | man without glasses

reading the past | terror at 10,000 feet

before we crash | we awake | to save us

from dreamed death | we float facedown

in the pool | water a strange shade of aqua

if we open our eyes | our view is

the sky below us | we feel

the sense of falling | weightless

rapid movements of the eyes | we might

see it all | take it in | create the dream

that allows us to drop | and see ourselves

plummet | without hitting the bottom

there is no bottom | to dream

just a continuous | extension of

bodies | pulled through space.

 

under the avocado | the shade is green

with the weight fruit | if you had

a son | and a daughter | and a daughter

and a daughter | if you had a child

taught her to talk | tested her tongue

she could tell the stories | of

her dreams | invading night

abandoned flowerbed | for the replicant

the screams | upon sight of

something authentic | the authentic

lie | gilded for its glint

after a time | we cannot identify

who is real | and who is faux

the pressure of dream | is to

squeeze the real | out of you

to allow the mind | to function

in the absence of body | to allow

the dream | to take possession of

the body | to erase the mind

of all evidence | of thinking

 

work it out through dream | work it

out through the mind | randomly thinking

extension | into a dream

is retraction into | the self

every object of accidental | thought

and occurrence | becomes the subject

of your dreaming | you feel the fall

but you never land | even the terror

doesn’t touch you | warm milk

in the morning | calms you

enough | recalibrates the synapses

you express thoughts | through

your mouth again | you taste all

the smells | your dreams repeat

stitch by | stitch you sew your

self into | that dream | you can’t

save the person | from drowning

because | they don’t exist

every book | is barren pages

you cannot dream | your life away