Newton's Cradle

Sleep is where I find the worlds that want to exist.

I.

I dreamt of a skeletal landscape

that I once called home.

I could see dead olive clouds,

the last breath of Atlas,

as if the sky was decaying, 

the earth itself in rigor mortis.

My lungs breathed heavy in a noose of forsaken air

beneath where once there might have been some kind of God

shaking his head in awe

at what we could accomplish.

Even at the world’s ellipsis

the people around me seemed to continue

as if their life sentence

wasn’t grammatically disastrous.

I awoke from it all

having no disasters left.

Just spaces between words

from which to continue.

II.

Dayna kept the lights on in her dream journal

for fear of relinquished nightmares.

She had every reason to believe

that she was worth her weight in fire

Perhaps, the next time she woke up

standing on the edge of her rooftop

she would be an angel before she hit the ground.

She writes, I am always searching for something.

III.

I am not all the little things that remind you of me.

I was never the vapor.

I was always the heat.

There is an audience of dust, and stone, and landscape

where my shadow waits for you.

It’s alright to take your time.

Bring your breath.

Set the stage with every step.

Your tumbleweed heartbeat

is going to wander

until it reminds you of me.

I was never the dream.

I was always the dreamer.

Dying will be your greatest performance.

Survival will be your masterpiece.

IV.

There is always some kind of wound on me…

V.

You refuse to let go of what hurts you most

as though somehow

they validate you.

And such a belief 

might make it true.

I wish you could walk with me in my dreams

so you can see

that what I can imagine

is not limited to

what I can produce.

VI.

...I am always healing.

I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

VII.

Close your eyes and count to courage.

I won’t be gone for long.

I’m coming back as autumn leaves

and impossible colors we cannot see.

I'm coming back as carnivorous galaxies,

star collisions we'll never know about.

I'm coming back as discord,

as the smell of distant thunder,

and the sensation of sneezing.

I'll be coming back

so alive.

VIII.

Start.

A breathing moment of coherency.

It fades seamlessly into a shuffle of thoughts

into a timeless dreamlike vision

into a dulling pulsing unconsciousness…

and then a start again.

My body wanting to sleep.

My mind refusing to let it.

I drift into ellipsis…

Author's Note

I'll meet you on the other side.

Reviews

[Heather]

I read up to V. then had to stop because I literally pounded my hand on the table and shouting YES, this poet, this GREAT man, CAN write! Then I went back to read the rest with my face as close to the screen as I could get. Your dream state is a genius Masterpiece. I have to keep this, I have so much more I want to say, but instead…just…thank you

[GunMetal]

Wow, thank you so much =)
I'm quite flattered! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

[Leslie Philibert]

Like this, the use of verses with different structures, the mix of long and short verses, and clever lines with the pun like life sentence and grammar. lots to enjoy here.

[GunMetal]

I'm glad you like it. I admit, I felt particularly clever about that line.

[Coyote Poetry]

You took me on a epic journey in this poem. I like the flow of thoughts and the places you took me. The poem got better with each set of lines. The strong ending made this poem complete. Thank you for sharing the excellent poem.
Coyote

[G!o]

I have to say you are one of the greatest poets i've encountered so far on this site. You put best to the world of poetry. This is such a masterpiece a lively and lovely writing. This must be the best piece of yours that i've read so far. Just just just fabulous...