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October 9, 2009
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Shifting, squirming
landscapes of my mind.
My eyes face forward,
but aim to pierce further
into some new dimension
where the air feels like
comforting arms.

Treading humid corridors
I reach no bright light,
instead descending into
blue florescents.
Watery home of
sprites too elated
to concern
or give advice.

"Rest here," they say
"Drown in your notions tonight,"
They said, "Your Imaginings,"
Said they.

But, that water was too thin-
like light rain on a sunny day,
it had no respect for order
and wanted me in checkmate.

Turned around;
let the moment cease.
the image break apart
with sparks of blurred blue
and red seperation
and I am no longer there.

I take the upstairs.
I rest on
splintering, tender
logs.
I say hello to
passersby.
(But only if they do first)

My head flies.    
.
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