37.

nor dreams nor love

i had a dream
in which the fingers
of darkness broke off
and my heart endured.
I dreamt the silence of
pure kisses seduced
my pain to burst and breed
and drip away like a honeycomb
in the mouths of the freshly dead.
i had a dream i was perfect
and my soul was not half-made
and the paradise that cracked in
my daydreams
reappeared in the soil that buried me.
i dreamt all the tenderness of a runaway
man now a boy
effortless and forgotten
in the ragweed and burdock seeds that
clung to my clothes like the wounds I would
someday know.
As with all childhood delirium
someday came too fast
and as with all forgotten memories
that travel in the fragility of every
single moment
it came too fast.
I dreamt all of this
in a sadness that precipitates
the awkward truth between humans
where I do not belong
where my parents fight inside me.
it came too fast
and I am still a cautious boy
falling through trap doors
peeling the wings from my back.
i had this dream
it was a damp fall day
and staring at the falling yellowed leaves
i gathered from that maple tree
i knew someday i would die
and the world would go on and
on and on