the dreams

1.

the air filled--

the fragrance of pine-branches
fallen into river-water,

the sense of light reversing.

the bell on the opposite side of the city
is clanging,

i should have been a place.


2.

to be able to touch

the first neuron that fires
or mis-fires

when the word "soul"
appears

to touch the light
that cuts through that word

the way leaves touch
as if vital papers were scattering

the important messages not so much lost
as spreading.

to be able to touch
that kind of steadiness


3.

the taste of water
a tinge of winter

my own taste
actually

who i want to be
jumps into the river--

nobody minds, in his freedom
they hear

their own birds
singing.


4.

lean against the wall of your fleeting house.
the iron gates of the next thousand years

broke at the hinges
and could not be properly opened.


5.

the mud of the road
went up, impossibly,

to my shoulders.
the fields are burnt

and even this far in the ground
i can see all the way to the trees

hiding the river,
which exists

as a vague falsetto.

if i were early morning light,
i think,

having a life would seem easy.


6.

sun pours into the room,
waterfalls down the wall

onto me. this is it,
i think, but then my body shifts

and i am myself.