You dig a hole deeper than what gravity can hold down;
put your phone down – making those comments just to
ring the crowd up.

You’ll never fly any higher than an ostrich; but you play
their popular myth, when you bury your head in the dirt –
to cover up your face, with false scales of makeup making
up your worth.

Maybe as I missed the translation of when someone says,
“bed” to the word bird – to believe you rest in the nest
of your fears; never to leave that habitat, to soar above
the world.

Seems a habit not to face your fears –
sitting on your wings!

some dream of warmth
some dream of flying

some spend mornings lying
balancing on the edge
between sleep and awake

half dreamt images
of dancing flames
closeness
heat warming their face

or lingering sensations
of falling
remembering soaring
through the sky


meeting someone
share the dream
such a rarity

find and be found
instead of searching
the reason we search

few words needed
when minds mere touch
feel like home

to know already
the smile in your voice
to words not said

the touch of your hand
in mine
without holding

few words needed
none allowed

to share a dream
is unspoken


there had been signs to indicate
you too hid matches in your coat

if one were to find them now
others not to be ignored
remember

tasting on your skin
a silent longing for
someone to share your skies


nothing now in your eyes
but squinting back to see

attempts at finding
wordless answers

some do not remember dreams
they have but half dreamt images
lingering sensations

if you had but asked
if only I had shared
I never wanted flying

I dream of fires

saw an eagle on
the ground rotting flesh broken
feathers soaring high