The Dream
You are the dream that I dreamed last night
You are the tear on my face when I wake
You are still water and you are my thirst
You are the silence when the morning breaks.
You are the tempter who whispers to me
You are the father to whom I confess
You are the icon I kiss when I bring
Each new offering for you to bless.
Love is a mystery, love is a crime
Love is a secret that no one will tell
In the dark church and in silence of dreaming
Love draws the line between heaven and hell.
-Folkerts
You are the tear on my face when I wake
You are still water and you are my thirst
You are the silence when the morning breaks.
You are the tempter who whispers to me
You are the father to whom I confess
You are the icon I kiss when I bring
Each new offering for you to bless.
Love is a mystery, love is a crime
Love is a secret that no one will tell
In the dark church and in silence of dreaming
Love draws the line between heaven and hell.
-Folkerts
posted by dyingember at 8:33 PM
2 Comments:
The Moon
The moon her magic be, big sad face of infinity. An illuminated clay ball
manifesting many gentlemanly remarks
She kicks a star, clouds forgather
In Scimitar shape, to round her
cradle out, upside down any old time
you can also let the moon fool you
with imaginary orange-balls
of blazing imaginary light in fright
as eyeballs, hurt and forgathered,
wink to the wince of the seeing
of a little sprightly otay
which projects spikes of light
out the round smooth balloon
ball full of mountains and moons
deep as the ocean, high as the moon
low as the lowliest river lagoon
fish in the Tar and pull in the Spar
Billy de Bud and Hanshan Emperor
and all wall moongazers since
Daniel Machree, Yeats see
gaze at the moon ocean marking
the face-
In some cases
the moon is you
In any case
the moon.
-Jack Kerouac
I appreciate this sooo much.
Post a Comment
<< Home