my dreams slipped circumspect, robbed of all notions
the blind emotions combined and blasted
the lowly bass contrasted to soprano cries
a seminal dimension, robust and fecund.
And the second I turn my back, the dreams
disappear into facts; get strapped to the track of theory
and I weary of seeing them crashing down
like buildings under terrorist attack.
Dreams are the seed, Ideas the abortionist.
an erection headed to eternity
my identity has eyebrows grown long
and time rests an elbow on the dawn.
It’s a song we’ve sung before and will sing again
the refrain is winsome and forlorn like digits abandoned
for every dream that lives, a thousand die
stars pay rent for a point of sky.
