Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Forgive Me, I Will Lose You

A pull behind the clouds
behind the eyes exacts
a fracturing -- a splintering
into serrated glints:
sharpened blades of grasses
golden-green with mid-July –

which slide into wide fields
now morphing into folds
of a Sargasso Sea,
which calculatedly informs
the barely semi-conscious me
that I’m about to enter

what in waking life I call,
as if I understood
what I was saying, “sleep.”
An ardent necessary
dream demands my rapt
abject attendance: I am

its carrier and it’s my carrier
and it is time to carry out
our intraconscious
internecine plan. Forgive me,
I will lose you. I’m dissolving
into not-a-man.


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