Sunday, March 21, 2010

Dreaming of Water

As I fall asleep I dream of water,

expansive, shallow, spreading over lawns

reflecting light and sparkling. Sometimes shorter

visions wake me, deep and hellish holes

of silent waters, still, reflecting nothing,

dug into my garden: grotesque moles

have undermined my home and let the flood

create a sinkhole, but I start awake

and drown the vision with my rushing blood.

We are mainly water, flesh not solid;

we delude ourselves: our spit, our tears

are what we really are. Beneath my eyelid

those glimpses that my dreams impose, imprint

unbidden, are my thoughts in sudden visions

deciding for me to abandon prose.


M'Sh 3.13.10