when
I
woke
I
remembered
little of you
though I plumbed the depths
of you, religiously,
if one can say that
about those milky rhythms
seen and not heard
(for who really hears a word
in the deaf space of the night)
we get only lilting lunar light,
sharp, crisp edges rarely appear
inside closed eyes--our pink lids mute
whatever passing parade was there
though I continue to stare
last night it was simple neon light
fading baby blue,
flickering florescent
curled like a pigs tail
wagging and wafting
in my watery waves of REM
I left you mid stream
for the cold clang of the alarm
has no respect for a dream
I
made my way into the day
where my open eyes
still blinked and longed
for the lost spell
of the color of night
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
when
I
woke
I
remembered
little of you
though I plumbed the depths
of you, religiously,
if one can say that
about those milky rhythms
seen and not heard
(for who really hears a word
in the deaf space of the night)
we get only lilting lunar light,
sharp, crisp edges rarely appear
inside closed eyes--our pink lids mute
whatever passing parade was there
though I continue to stare
last night it was simple neon light
fading baby blue,
flickering florescent
curled like a pigs tail
wagging and wafting
in my watery waves of REM
I left you mid stream
for the cold clang of the alarm
has no respect for a dream
I
made my way into the day
where my open eyes
still blinked and longed
for the lost spell
of the color of night
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