September 5, 2011 § 5 Comments
Last night, I had no dreams of crashing cars
or translucent shells
or even wandering dogs.
Last night, we shaped into what was to come.
Now we rise – this new –
heavy and soft with the insistent
Gentle yearning of a suckling. We drink dark
coffee from a butter cup.
“Life is Good” it says, as if
We needed a reminder.