all those memories stashed away under your skullcap
a nightly dreamtime the reward at the end of day
its one of the last frontiers and its just behind your eyes
a place so unique with so many different computations
and yet can be so recurring it can seem like a haunting
a nightmare without end, a place of demons.

Spun around all night
like a spiders snack
twirled up in blankets
prey to the night.
The darkness is long
these times spinning
longer toward winter.
And the blankets
will multiply. A nest
and a web all at once
the fading of the light
down the dark tunnel.

when the night is a fleeting shadow
the sky a highest blue
your sleep is a blink you missed
all the night prowlers hide
around the corners of your dreams
and the wolves in sheep's clothing
walk in plain sight down the street
a smile hiding the intentions of their heart
and a growl just beneath their teeth.

I rolled up the night and with contempt
threw it in the trash can,
"all my dreams now are nightmares"
following me out the door to daylight.

last night the world slipped in
quietly through my window;
police sirens, car alarms,
church bells, rainstorms
collecting in a pool
on my bedroom floor,
coffee cups clinked and
kettles boiled,
babies were born and
ashes were thrown
and though I was tired
I stayed up all night listening;
the collective madness
of the world
lulled me back to sleep
and i woke with its bitter
sweet taste on my tongue;
craving more.

some wear stars on their flag
some stars in their eyes
as if a star could be plucked out the sky

the daystar here runs through our blood
not the Star itself
her being her is sufficient

like a lover who loves
because that's all that a lover can do
a law written in the heart of love itself.

We fall into darkness here with hardly a glance back, no Sunset lingers on the horizon to make us wish wishes into an evening drawn out across the West. But these can be the very best of times wrapped in a blanket of black starred skies. A clear look into the eternal Universe whichever way you stare. And the whole cosmic array stares back, impersonal, with its own stories and poetry to recite if you stay silent enough to hear. And the darkness is not dark at all, she beckons all to slumber and dream long into the loving heart of her motherhood, something she has done and does for all time.

To just 'stick around' sometimes is all you can do
and wait for your deliverance from yourself
a half remembered dream dragged itself out of bed
and wrapped itself into a corner of your waking mind
keeps on insisting on being present to your memory
memories of sleep life that haunts the hours of 'just sticking around'

I am surrounded by night, windless
hot as fever, even more troubled
the places I've called home, abandoned
along with everyone, days in a desert alone
I speak to no one, only the sky
the night moon, my mother
whispers in metaphor
something brilliant
I tremble, quiver
in time with
the stars.

She came to me less than a whisper
and her music entered my heart
just to be riding the wind was Zen
as we Ying and Yang'ed the stars.

a noiseless full silence
beckons
the voices of wisdom
can be heard from afar
travelling into silence
deeper, deeper, deeper.