Midnight Skin And Dawnbreak Heart

This earth is cloaked in the silence of more than a thousand

screaming stars,

and I do not wonder at how it shields itself

from roaring sunlight.

Oceans spill into my room from a leak inside the fine print:

blue ink is bleeding everywhere,

and the white cotton sheets pretend sky blue

in the summer of their cerulean stains.

Dali's enchanted clock marches in circles

with it's favorite second-hand.   And barely

this second stops at the foot of my bed,

takes a breath, and dives right in.

While Time takes a swim inside this watering hole of dream-filled night,

Tiny sailboats are born of the thoughts inside my mind's pretty iris,

emerging upon my eyelashes like Helen's great armada,

and set to sail upon the midnight air
like miniature question marks, these sailor's hooks,

to rescue the maiden clock and bring her back to land

by dawn again.

There is no wonder that my atoms take pattern

after the great beyond.

The landless land from where from where I originate-

this space-filled space from which I take my birth

is more than soil of earth and drop of water,

but a startlit pregnancy of  air, light, and magic

that bursts into silent formation paying hommage

to a secret like a lily in a moonlit pond

when no one is watching.

Standing at attention like great sunflowers born

upon the yellowing fields of their own green acclaim.

No-

my mother's womb was no fiery red,

it was blue,

bluer than night, blue as black,

black as the legions of space so black it uses stars as

breadcrumb marking points for pirates

roaming on these universally unlit paths.

While stars splash like notes of song inside

the darkness a witch's lullaby that puts the

world to sleep,

stealthily I creep in witness as the drumbeat

of my heart echoes the pulses of

these heavenly radiating orbs.

Just when I am sure that no one is watching,

I drop the cloak of fear which shields me.

It spills to the ankles of this knee-deep feat, and

my heart floats away like a red harp on

a raging sea of madly quiet gladness.

A procession marks my entrance point at sea,

little dipper arrows signal *follow Me*

I swim, I dive, I float, I wander

A thousand leagues beyond a nautical dream

and find an anchor in the shape of two bows,                   

and an arrow,

pointing back inside itself.

                                                  

Click here for 1000 Oceans.