Suppose we were a dream;
suppose the subtle incarnations of pseudo-reality
were just that, horses grazing on an incarnate field of
blue colored clouds like crayon boxes left empty
in a sandbox
when it was raining.
And, suppose::
that this is just what we were looking for, as if
wedding bands were eternal
and heaven is real; there is no need to stop and count
snowflakes in Idyllwild because
it never snows in New Orleans anyway.
Right.
Just for a moment, imagine that
we are together forever
and forever has already come and gone
and we are ashes in the ethereal moonbeams
of just-a-dream-I-had-last-night.
Deep and provocative,
think of her hollows and holocausts
and the conflagration of her soul
as if, as if she were ever just
outer space
and perhaps a slice
of buttered toast on Sunday afternoons.
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 4:00 PM UTC
Suppose we were a dream;
suppose the subtle incarnations of pseudo-reality
were just that, horses grazing on an incarnate field of
blue colored clouds like crayon boxes left empty
in a sandbox
when it was raining.
And, suppose::
that this is just what we were looking for, as if
wedding bands were eternal
and heaven is real; there is no need to stop and count
snowflakes in Idyllwild because
it never snows in New Orleans anyway.
Right.
Just for a moment, imagine that
we are together forever
and forever has already come and gone
and we are ashes in the ethereal moonbeams
of just-a-dream-I-had-last-night.
Deep and provocative,
think of her hollows and holocausts
and the conflagration of her soul
as if, as if she were ever just
outer space
and perhaps a slice
of buttered toast on Sunday afternoons.
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