take me to the Palace of Sleep
where the air is hashish-heavy
as thick with dark autumnal cloud
as anything written
by Poe or Keatssky dragging itself across
as if stuck somewhere
and out to test the windsbut let me
sink into that darkness
night so perfect, it is the null equation,there
where words are absorbed, lines, phrases
disintegrate, are so carefully dismantled
scattered like leaves
on a river, like momentary
phosphorescence on the oceanno dream here, at least
none that
is remembered,
only the blending of
currents, change,
reconfigurationshe said that I reminded her of Keats once
this before she got married
but after we
were loversperfect sleep in her arms then
no thought of
darkness, any kind of
renewal, rebirth, re-
definition of selfas figure who writes
not figure who lovesthe gates to every Palace
secretly open
unbeknownst to me
at that
most lost of lost moments
PALACE OF SLEEP
01 Monday Oct 2018
Posted in art, Author, Consciousness, Creation, Creativity, Dark and light, death, Dream, Escape, Imagination, Infinity, Language, Life, literary allusive, loss, Metaphor, metaphoric, Metaphysical, metapoetic/metafictional, mystical, mythical/mythological, Night, Ocean, Paradise, Pastoral, philosophical, Poem, Poet, poetry, Poetry, Poetry, Rebirth, Romantic/romantic, The future, The ocean, the sea, the sea, time and space (space/time), Transcendence, Unconscious, Unconscious (the unconscious), Universe, writing
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