Lulling pebbles, soft as petals
fallen by design, lullaby beside
the deep madala waterway.
My hidden lake, free of eyes
not ice; give no clue what lurks
beneath this watery mirror.
To dream is like looking
in a reflection, through
projections of a
part of my subconscious. On this glass-
like surface, sudden ripples darkly
appear. Close your eyes, honey.
Let go of air – sink into the waterway.
Let it out – soar above the milky way
Let it all out – soak in the waterfall
full of milk and honey.
Gulp. Sink. Gulp, sink. Kiss goodnight
to the growing string of pearls, bubbles
fleeing from my mouth and the dark deep.
Air is lead – locks away my treasure;
air chains my heart within my chest.
Mute –no bangs, nor cracks, or pops or whispers…
all muffled under a midnight, midwife’s pillow.
Squalshing, whurlpling masses in the dark,
far below the airy surface. I open my eyes-
no salty stings, just a sugary honed dream
I sing. ‘We live, as we dream-alone.”
Solitary composers crafting
in an endless
oh Kubla can not…cannot disguise
his floating hair and flashing eyes.
the awe-ful fish the wonder-ful
beauty-ful terrors, entire schools
of fish-gliding wonders in the deep.
They do not sleep; innocence–
sliding like dark shooting stars;
without sun, without moon, without
eyes. But something is watching my
shape…feels my heartbeat…
beat ultra sound echoes
so close to home.
No sound of approach. Something brushes my naked calf,
a hand tickels my hair. This snare of sirens – still those pearls.
Poseidon, where are your pleasure domes? My lady, lady,
Lady of the Lake do you have an Excalibur for me? A light
shines beneath, I invert and open the element
before me, as if commanding the clouds to part.
Again, breaststroke; again breaststroke part this blue–see for me!
I emerge on the edge of an oasis.
no ice, no trees, no grass. From above
it must appear a turquoise eye
in the middle of the white desert.
Image or mirage? Twice, five-times
blank expanse. 70 times 70 Seers
robed in swaddling clothing
approach me. One leans over my
form like a mother, ‘We saw you coming.”
Then they sing in unison:
‘Paradise is a pair of eyes
that open as we slumber.
Sweet dreams as honey suckles
that never lose their savor.’
My dream eyes gulp it down.
I’ve found my VATES vault.
I have become the pupil in
the Iris school. Now I see, oh
now it makes so much sence:
The Romantic “I” is born.