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poetry
September 2009 
this waking dream
Posted on Mar 10th, 2009
by 
mary
mary
did you leave me a message, calling me sistah,
and letting me hear the ocean?
or was that a dream?
and now, i feel you, receding? falling?
as the tide, or from the cliff,
from where the ocean roared
all the way to here?
i want so much to touch you there, in those tangled middles
i know i can soothe you, ease the snarls
just by thinking them calm, barely a whisper passing between
and given time, could turn your eyes to Love
not love of this form, this wrinkly mess
nor love of any form!
but love of all form - as perfect expression of the divine
who ever pours for you
but to a heart cleaved, these words may ring empty
as the hollow-belly ever grumbles for substance
the warmth and beat beat beat of another breathing soul
cupped in a gentle eternity
filling the deeps and shallows with sweet sweet succor
as the night draws long, and sheets settle, so smooth
upon the hills and valleys of us
you toy with my hair, thinking i sleep
and i try not to smile
i know you are dreaming me
feasting upon the shadows of moonlight
obscuring the crows-feet and worry-lines
gravity has pulled kindly toward the pillow
with its pale satin sheen, and shadow-dance of
sheer curtains, languid on moonbeams
which fortune smiles to frame this midnight moment
in your heart
as it breaks, and pours its lament
silently, so as not to stir
this waking dream….
and letting me hear the ocean?
or was that a dream?
and now, i feel you, receding? falling?
as the tide, or from the cliff,
from where the ocean roared
all the way to here?
i want so much to touch you there, in those tangled middles
i know i can soothe you, ease the snarls
just by thinking them calm, barely a whisper passing between
and given time, could turn your eyes to Love
not love of this form, this wrinkly mess
nor love of any form!
but love of all form - as perfect expression of the divine
who ever pours for you
but to a heart cleaved, these words may ring empty
as the hollow-belly ever grumbles for substance
the warmth and beat beat beat of another breathing soul
cupped in a gentle eternity
filling the deeps and shallows with sweet sweet succor
as the night draws long, and sheets settle, so smooth
upon the hills and valleys of us
you toy with my hair, thinking i sleep
and i try not to smile
i know you are dreaming me
feasting upon the shadows of moonlight
obscuring the crows-feet and worry-lines
gravity has pulled kindly toward the pillow
with its pale satin sheen, and shadow-dance of
sheer curtains, languid on moonbeams
which fortune smiles to frame this midnight moment
in your heart
as it breaks, and pours its lament
silently, so as not to stir
this waking dream….
Access: PublicTagged with: poetry
a spoon in a coffeecup stirs, stirs,
my fragile space, my virgin wanting:
i dreamed I woke from a dream
standing in the moonlight,
itself a wreath upon fragility.
So many nights the phone ringing and i don’t answer
someone calling me sir on the answering machine and
what i really wanted would not be on a machine,
it would not come through in 0’s and 1’s.
oh maybe part,
that part that can perhaps can be placed
carefully, tenderly from that soul center,
perhaps some beam of green light
inviting me to accelerate
95
to roll down my windows
and feel her on the breeze of words,
or maybe that light spreads out
like eagle wings
expands my imagination
starlight breeze through the shears,
candle wax
cascading down the dresser,
to the floor
and who cares if it is 4:17 AM
on the morning
of a late tomorrow?
because my hat
is over the clock then.