I sigh, light my cigarette and turn to you.
Within this dream I propose let us fly away.
Your eyes so dark
whip my mind into arousal and your
rugged hand on my thigh makes me
soft inside and everywhere.
You whisper that my hair so near
and my lips a crimson darkness devours you.
Against waves of joy and sadness dreams are
always what it could be like.
Suddenly hares chase foxes and Roebuck’s
hunt hunters and I bury my face in your
chest and you shield me within bleak arms
to not see the terror and we fly away.
art by Babylon Premium
In the state between sleep and wake
traversing birth and death
there is the faintest hint of earthy candles
macabre dreams interrupted by the
strophe of sonnets, a sensation of
spilling pearls like tiny moons falling
through my open palm.
At the boundaries I find you
not your spirit or rose tinged snow
but flesh and bone.
I am sleeping less now
roused by the wing beats of boreal owls
circling an ancient Cypress,
their knife edge talons entwined in sprays
of silky moss clinging to knotty branches.
Fitful wind gusts burst through barriers of
creaking walls vibrating my hemispheres into
consciousness. A celestial tapestry of recollection
lifts me over the valley to a moonlit hillside
of sweet lea where a silver wolf lies down beside me.
He is the scent of golden wheat and
his eyes are the color of the eastern sky.
I drift on an opalescent breeze
dreams flower in my hair
They shed in heaps of autumn leaves
rust and gold and green
I am traveling far from childhood
where dreams were never welcome
against transparent skies
I cast my tattered shadow
A Mayan goddess taking flight
thrumming ancient wings
art by Karal Bak
In dreams my
spirit guide is a Peregrine Falcon
with wings open wide still
I never fly over ancient
pathways of amber fields or
deep woods of amber resin.
Even in dreams I concede
I am not is a bird but never
art by Karol Bak
Your eyes are the crescent
of a silver bay that circles my mind
in the deep mystery of sleep
your voice an invocation of bells
that once rung cannot be undone
in dreams I am your dancer
beckoned at your will
I am a charme on your well cut cuff
a link on your diamond encrusted chain.
art by digitalina
I dreamed you beside me
in a small fishing village,
our bare feet dangling
from an ancient wall.
Stone soldiers, eternally
gaurding held back the
swell of the rushing sea.
By the beacon of a distant
lighthouse sea birds flew over
only to vanish beneath its
A shell at my ear I held you,
gathered you in silk arms of netting.
Losing my grip you slipped away,
freed from the catch of dreams.
When you leave I become
the sea gull begging salt from
from the briny air.
My veins are a winding tunnel
Of deep purple sea.
I channel you in the night owl’s
perpetual call that awakens the
Subconscious to the feel of
your phantom hand at the angle of my
At dawn your shirt hangs from a
Closet door in the buttery sunlight
and I become so small I could slip
inside the lining of your chest
sheltered by your warm skin where I
long to be.
art by Anuraag
I am who I have always been
a shiver of soft reeds beside the river
or the cascade of waterfall.
Gypsy crows rise to a soft dawn sky
gathering their kind they circle
back for me.
I can scarcely bear the
splendor of the world,
it’s wonder humbles
the wisp of me.
Minutiae of eyes and ears
and speechless tongue
Stunned by the promise
of a red sunrise.
Elegant trees lift up
their mighty arms,
grand gods in prayer,
host to creatures
large and small,
a cornucopia of life
fills their noble crowns.
I want to sail across the sea,
this tiny fleck that is me,
a winged bird bearer of
fragment of the universe.
fine art America
Translation by Bernd Hutschenreuther
Ein geflügelter Vogel sein
Ich vermag kaum, den Glanz
der Welt zu enthüllen,
ihre Wunder schmälern
noch meine Winzigkeit.
Details von Augen und Ohren
und Zunge, stumm,
erstaunt vom Versprechen
Vornehme Bäume erheben
ihre erhabenen Arme,
mächtige Götter im Gebet,
Gastgeber unzähliger Geschöpfe,
abgezupft in rot und grün,
Füllhörner mit Nüssen und Beeren
zieren ihre edlen Kronen.
Ich möchte das Meer durchsegeln,
winziger Fleck, der ich bin,
ein geflügelter Vogel, Träger
keines Besitzes, ein erfreuliches
Fragment des Alls,
einem jeden sichtbar.
Deutsch: Bernd Hutschenreuther
Firelight dances through the bistro,
We lean in close and when our eyes meet
the rain storm streaming down the
stain glass window reclaims us.
Swept away through sea caves,
caverns and seal black maelstroms
we ride the darkness,
diving deep we take what we need.
Thieves, we steal only from ourselves.