Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and
choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach
in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.
Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon,
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.

Do you ever look at the sea?
Thinking to yourself where on Earth you could be?
Looking at seashells and conches,
Take a deep breath from your conscious.

Hearing laughter from the turquoise waves,
Wondering where the dolphins might bay.
Take in the maiden's dainty splash,
Creating scenery like that of endless riffraff.

Perhaps it's a bit of a bore.
Well the beach always has a lot in store.
If it's too much for you on the floats,
Don't mind joining the others on the sailboats.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

’Twas noontide of summer,
  And midtime of night,
And stars, in their orbits,
  Shone pale, through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
  ’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
  Her beam on the waves.

  I gazed awhile
  On her cold smile;
Too cold—too cold for me—
  There passed, as a shroud,
  A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
  Proud Evening Star,
  In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
  For joy to my heart
  Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
  And more I admire
  Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

The seeds belonging to the pomegranate are like that of fervid, scarlet jewels.
Dripping with sinful nectar that warbles a tune of blasphemy.
The heinous partake in communion throughout those cryptic, velvety pools.
Entrenched in that liquid, they amalgamate in sacrificial voracity.

Bodies spiraling into those abyssal fabrics are given weight.
As winds torment their exposed vessels possessed by their charred entrails.
They suffer continuously, punished by shards of rain and fate.
Their innards squishing and staining the ground, rupturing the sacred grail.

The convent is disregarded and attains solace across the unforgiving perdition.
Restrained by the stems of the iniquitous cherry, they ascend the ladder.
Their judgment is wedged betwixt amorality and cruel ripples of shameless frisson.
Declination awaits those whose veins bear the fallacy of the adder.

Eternally facing punishment amidst the breaking wheel's treacherous blight,
Thus their salvation lies beyond even that of the Garden of Earthly Delights.

Kindness glides about my house.
Dame Kindness, she is so nice!
The blue and red jewels of her rings smoke
In the windows, the mirrors
Are filling with smiles.

What is so real as the cry of a child?
A rabbit's cry may be wilder
But it has no soul.
Sugar can cure everything, so Kindness says.
Sugar is a necessary fluid,

Its crystals a little poultice.
O kindness, kindness
Sweetly picking up pieces!
My Japanese silks, desperate butterflies,
May be pinned any minute, anesthetized.

And here you come, with a cup of tea
Wreathed in steam.
The blood jet is poetry,
There is no stopping it.
You hand me two children, two roses.