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