Its always at the end of the dream..
The final view from afar and close..
A bright cloud in the night sky..
Made of all colors the eye could see..
And from the cloud dances the lightning..
In colorful arcs the electric paintbrush strokes..
I have always thought the cloud to be an idea inside of my mind..
Or should I say ideas!
A batch of whimsical thoughts and stories within..
The lightning, and now something new..
The halos!
They're now halos that float out from the cloud..
The halo is made up of all colors that my eyes have ever seen..
They float to the stars and back down into the cloud..
I think its time for me to share my stories...

the iron gate sings of roses,
water and moon tremble and sigh,

the night breathes in its water colours,
shadowy and whimsical like a bird of
dark air,

its eye-sockets the moon-world
of dream,

its clouds the stream-golds of
the glistening, eventide moon.

i see your stars, glazed
and fearless, glistening
like a spectrum

and i understand wonder,
that life is that sharp intake
of air.

a child 'a God laughing
in her
drawing book


یک پروانه روی گل نشسته است

...کودکی در دفتر نقاشی اش
...خدایش می خندد

In the presence of evil

Calm

Fractal starlight..
In and out of my dreams..
The stars are leaving again..
Outside of my realm it seems..

I wonder where they go..
And why they decide to leave..
Did they find some music elsewhere..
Something new they feel and believe..

They do comeback..
In the next dream..
My sky memory is full of them..
In place where they're suppose to be..

The fractals begin to spin again..
Breaking and mixing..
In a beautiful organized chaos..
Destroying and fixing..

there are no ghosts
in the sky,

my tabby cat wears the moon,
curled into the corner
like a sleepy fog,

the dreamscape is made
of silver and gold,

you (like always)try to get my
attention and i (like always) ignore
you, trying to write
my poem…