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.
LRH
M'Sh 3.13.10
