Musing

Musing


Sometimes I dream I'm on the moon
I do not know how I got there
but I know I'm dreaming

Other times my speech is involuntary
as if I were talking to frogs
as if trees listen & murmur 
my pale secret thoughts

Sometimes I stop thinking 
stop encouraging myself, but I'm not sad
or afflicted or extinguished
I'm just pensive, desiring to dream 
the lives of others, those who dream 
about birds or goldfish

That's why I write my fatigue
& the color of laughter,
steal a little life from night
& not let silence sleep

Sometimes everything changes 
from noon to evening
or one month to the other year
& although it sounds cheesy
when three or more of these things happen

the only thing that does not change
in that butterfly & black ant dream
is the unexpected instant I find light
in the cruel red wasp of your vission