I would love to know
what tickles the corners of your eyes.
Do you see Pablo’s circus
in rosy shades? Or does the world weep
and turn your guitar strings blue?
Does it re-form before you
in images you will to be made?
Or do you welcome the unexpected
blend of something new?
What do you dream of when your lids close?
Do you imagine a great wave that carries
all the desks and chairs to a far-off place?
When you roll in your sheets
and fears keep you from sleep,
do you see blue and green mountains
or fields of rolling golden wheat?
Perhaps a rocky shoreline brushed in foam
or a soft patch of grass beneath your feet.
I would kiss the shadows into sighs,
And share in your wrinkled delight.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
I would love to know
what tickles the corners of your eyes.
Do you see Pablo’s circus
in rosy shades? Or does the world weep
and turn your guitar strings blue?
Does it re-form before you
in images you will to be made?
Or do you welcome the unexpected
blend of something new?
What do you dream of when your lids close?
Do you imagine a great wave that carries
all the desks and chairs to a far-off place?
When you roll in your sheets
and fears keep you from sleep,
do you see blue and green mountains
or fields of rolling golden wheat?
Perhaps a rocky shoreline brushed in foam
or a soft patch of grass beneath your feet.
I would kiss the shadows into sighs,
And share in your wrinkled delight.
