My fears have left me, one by one
Waving farewell over sharp shoulders
Each attached to a dream instead
Rendering sleep the final exploration.
There are cats in my dreams now
People walking carelessly by
As I point at their shoes.
Sometimes I am skyclad
Uncaring as I should have been awake
During daylight I dwell in my home
Neat as the proverbial pin
While my dreams stack in errant piles
Rising as my eyelids fall.
The me reflecting in you
Is not the one in my mirrors
Or my mind…
There are no borders, no barriers
To living this adventurous life
There is me upon the shoreline
Of an ever-shifting sea
Or me, blown before desert winds.
The news lays its crumbs into my blender
I have dusted these from sore fingers
I favor the surprise now, shedding
The peremptory of unknowns
For even the news is familiar from my dreams
Ever the known, unloosed & traveling by rail,
The windows scrubbed with sunshine
And the light behind my eyes.
Local journeys for a local girl
I only need hold the rails of life’s Ferris Wheel
To be lifted above perception
To be found by angels entertaining unaware.
Life circles ‘round, cycles seem uphill mostly…
On coasting down, the mileage varies
Everyone must master the Dances of Transition!
It feels increasingly good
To close my eyes now
A moment of distance
Is a reverie by any other name.
The house responds to wind’s awakening
I no longer react,
Letting silence pool in my ears
Slipping through the backdoor of that dream
Just to look around.
The front door is left open
The tan-white face of an artificial Siamese
Stares unblinking, from directly across the room
(I named him Mitts.)
He has inquisitive ears, he tilts his head
As we each await the other to speak.
Blessed is the silence.
The hollow stairwell
Offers no fixed direction
The hats hang from hooks below
The single bed is still made above
All locks engaged, safe in the Gratitude
I said yes to the soup
Behind my fluttering eyes
To the dream that was that close…
I never noticed there was no spoon.
This page is spotted in dots
From my nodding pen, my nodding head
A tired hand holding itself up at end of day
Pecking at a poem.