Sun-Tide

The crescent moon hung at the
edge of sunset’s wake,
Its glow unshaken by the
stir of twilight, like a child whose
feet are nestled in the sand at the
edge of a surging sea.
The patterns of day traced by
boy fingers were washed away by a single
ripple of light’s extinguishing. Still,
the luminous keeper of night
singing the velvet lullaby
above the azure fumes of the day’s
remains, cradled the earth’s sky
in its dark starry arms
wading through the swell and
now the ebb of sunset’s great tide.
The calm of soft waves faded
into the horizon, replacing the
heaven fury that for a summer moment
ignited the ocean sky.

Close My Eyes

I close my eyes and wait… for my thoughts to awaken,
To guide me, to deliver me through an abstraction
Of fragmented visions that are to be, or could have been,
A life I may know.

I close my eyes and see… foreign familiarities, events that seem
Accurate but not real, approximate truths in which
Times are collinear,
Coexistent,
But not cohesive.
Motions through emotions. Fine.
Disconnected.

I close my eyes and feel… a longing for something
Unexplored but not unknown,
An awkward self-assuredness in some distant place where
Life is one moment, reticent, alienated from itself,
Anxious to make sense of mistakes,
To modify
The past
By infusing into it the
Experience of My present.

Sleep Walking

The night knows things the day works to forget.

Dreams in its visceral tongue speak images
And invite unwelcome truths whose abstractions recount
An altered reality... one that is vaguely reminiscent of a known history.

Nights evoke emotions more real than
Wakeful moments of the day.
Perhaps my day is spent sleeping and
My true waking
Is in dreams.

In sleep I recollect dreams of my days,
Haunting
My reality and stirring deep in my gut.

I am tired.

I am not certain where I rest.