Dreams entangle and untangle,
Melding a mess of what is, what was,
And whatever will be.

Makes sure and unsure
Between what’s near and what’s far—
A state of certainty and uncertainty.

Hours will pass, years and centuries,
And repeat for eons, repeat for eternity.

Shed your worries and fret not,
Because you shall dive
Into a world without history.

Search not there for holy nor for divine—
You are the god,
All-mighty entity.

Create and destroy all that you want,
Merge with matter and with energy.

In this place, nothing’s strange nor is bizarre—
It’s all just a dream,
And you are dreaming peacefully.

Who in this world could claim the right
To define what is a memory?

To be able to see what others can’t see,
To be able to smell flowers in dreams—
We are all a walking treasury.

What magic we make that grows with age
And creeps through our melodies,

That trickles from books, from lasting looks, from yawning gentle poetry.

What words can change in an hour or an age
Of long past tales and history?

Can we remember or try to dismember
The meaning of a eulogy?

Do we surrender to cold December
And live again in memories,
Or wish that someday we break asunder
And become immortal memories?

Hunger growls, and I listen.
I will be the one that lasts.
Out of sight, no sound given.
You will be the one I catch.

Wind howls; I am missing.
Sky is watching my advance.
Muscles tighten, knees stiffen.
Nightly creatures all in trance.

Screams muffled, blurry vision.
Searing pain — you collapse,
Giving in to intuition.
Knife digging deep and fast.

Two are one in coalition.
Hunger finally satisfied.

Sleep, sweet Leviathan inside my heart,
Until the day and sun drift apart,
Until cold abandons winter,
Until fire abandons cinder.

Wake not when you hear their screams—
Though it gleams, though it gleams.

Wake not to sound nor to light,
Nor to my long, everlasting fight.
Shield your eyes and cover your ears,
Stay in the deep, stay in the deep.

And on the day that all will be fulfilled,
And you decide to spread your wings,
My heart may flutter, my soul may sink
From the thought of the horror you may bring.

Still, for now don’t wonder or try to ask—
Sleep on this lavender heart and bask,
With dreams you shall only dream alone,
With dreams that only to you are known.

For I’ll keep you still for howevermore,
Until every grain of sand leaves its shore,
Until they burn every piece of coal,
And every man sets free his soul,
And every paper soaked in poetry
Has been forgotten and lost.

For now, sweet Leviathan,
Sleep inside this heart—
Lest all the world fall apart.

Gather around me, point and laugh,
Watch me dance with a broken half.
How easy pain can be disguised—
Just hide your face, then mask the mask.

Come and try to comprehend
How a broken leg pretends
To find footing amidst torment,
Beneath the stares of a thousand eyes

Everyone has a broken half—
Half hearts, half brains, half short-stretched hands.
Try as you may to refuse and defend
Your half pride and half lies and their
Sickening stench.

Never thought a man could confess,
Or even have the courage to explain himself,
How bad and awful can be dismay,
Or even realize his closing end.

Instead, we stumble around and shout—
To forget it all, we shout loud and proud.
And if we still hear whispers of reason,
Our throats are ready to smother it out.

Perchance God created this world
For you to bless its ground.
Perchance God, with the love He holds,
Believed that you must be bound.

So He stole all your love
And hid it far from view,
And now you walk the earth
Without feeling in truth.

Perchance He’s in endless doubt—
That one day, you’ll forget
What He did, and what He does—
Oh, it fills Him with regret.

So He fled within the stars,
And to work was He set—
To amend and put to right
Eons of secrets.

For from your love He shall create
Everything that ever flew—
Every red, wine-rich fruit.

And in His need to express His self-hate,
From all the silent tears you abate,
God channeled all His sorrow through—
Creating that beautiful, tender morning dew.

Whatever I think, I say it and mean it.
I wear my heart on the seams of my sleeve.
The coming wind holds my poems and their meanings,
Like smoke, I let it pass over me.

I follow every laughter, every melancholy feeling.
I tread every road that I ever see.
To be alive is to bear the searing
Fiery breath of what caused us to be.

I, that hold the cold of summer leaving,
Can only sense that I hold my poetry—
That which I hope has sailed with the weary,
That which I dread always follows me.

The binding I know is real ,
A merging too grand to fake ,
Though I hold a primordial fear,
That the bond one day would break ,
You are a dream I will forget
when at last I awake,
And all the balms the psalms the crooked charms
Wouldn’t stop the burning and the perpetual yearning ,
Those hounds biting at my heels,
How far you are further than far
And the further you lie the more I sigh,
The more I suffer in dreams,
And now I stand naked and lonely ,
Gazing high and moving slowly ,
With a thousand ,if only,
No word can be more justified
To hold my silent testimony.

I walked this town with madness,
Where streets once full of gladness—
And I cried into the heavenly sky
That no sadness shall ever blow by
Upon this town of madness.

For all the churches and their bells
May ring warning about this hell,
But no bell can reach the drinking well
That drove this town to madness.

I turned around seeking that sound
That haunted every morrow—
That ripply wave that intertwines
And beckons us to sorrow.

I stood amidst this desolate town
That wore the well as its crown,
And every building knelt broken down
To hail the King of Madness.

What good is light for the stars,
when the stars are blind, my love?
If stars were to trade their fire and bright
to see for just one day and one night,

would there still be light, my love?

Still, how can stars ever see,
if others don’t sacrifice their sight?

Then—
can you count how many would be
willing to do it for others,
and be the ones we truly love?

It was winter when I descended into the river,
Descended to beseech her to teach me about her flow—
On a dark night where beasts and fiends shake and quiver,
Where the only light was her silky, glistening glow.

Upon her arms I knelt humbly as I
Shivered.
Before her majesty, I was struck with frightening awe.
I cried and cried, and with hazy eyes I prayed to be delivered,
And then I heard her speak—
What frightening things she spoke.

Lowly, all pleasures sink;
No happiness it ever brought.
All joys that you may think
Repaint the pain you wrought,
Shall cling to you and bring
Horrors, woes, and rot.

Woe is you, woe is me—
She passes here at last.
Her voice and her shadow cast
The void that claws and stings.
Her shroud eternal, vast,
She that lives in darkness.

And beauty falls aghast by her tears;
The winding grass dances in trance beneath her marble feet.
Light couldn’t steal a glimpse of her,
Nor day or night dared to bring her peace.

For no moon shines above her head,
And the sun forgot and turned to rot
In her birthplace in the east.

All in shame in unison cried—
Angels and hellish beasts.

For devils could not stain her heart,
Nor soothe her pain, seraphims.

She that cloaks the darkness,
Her eyes that never sheen,
Made of hope departed
And all the forgotten dreams.

She knows every whining
Soul that dared to dream

O one that holds the strands of fate
Weave this worthless soul a tale
From your fragile winding strings
stronger than armies of noble kings

Don’t let this wandering wretch be lost
Through your halls of ancient tales
With the ways of your silky words
Let my deeds be louder than storms and gales

Let my name be heard when the songbird sings
By your cold and placid grace
To your strands I hold and cling
Until you lift me from my lowly place
And be with you ever…. coiling.