this is a poem for the night
and for the dawning
of the darker dream
where we’ll go watching
waiting for a sign
that we might be free
of ourselves
in laughter
in a moment
in response I can’t tell
if it’s serious
are you serious?
am I serious?
are they serious?
on the other side
where everything is made
of eyeballs math and color
are they serious in the capital
or more serious with lights off
when the mask of form is stolen
and then free to create
are we free in dreams
or do you dig the weird collapse
of the winking eye
to reach a point of limitless cohesion
in a black cup
do we take the leap
of faith to sleep
a second longer
knowing that our dream
is the more real &
the nightmare is an image
of inverted faith
decaying in a flash of
meteoric sparks burning
up the sky to light
this new joint in the atmosphere of
the living room
dropping LSD in
VR
to paint a picture
with mental pixels
or build your inner fire
or net an alien
or get in bed w/ grandma
& her bronzed boots
behind us where an open window
calls the night in cool
cascades of secret drunken knowledge
or else obnoxious wisdom
with apology
when we’re closer to
that which knows no logic
moves in shadow backwards
up the wall
to find us
when the sun shreds all
we thought we knew