Dream Lake


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

jumbled melodies

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.


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