06-28-2016, 09:33 AM
[b]TRAVEL DREAM (edit 2)
[/b]
A television prison lights the living room
with the flicker of a nature show on mute.
Body shackled by sofa cushions
and drifting down a stream of dreams.
The voiceless tone of quiet comes.
“Qu,” the wind blows.
In the middle “I” am floating.
The water murmurs, “e,” around me.
Tree branches tap the “t.”
I stretch my arms and legs,
—left foot in N. America,
right foot in S. America,
left arm in Europe,
right arm in Africa,
summersault into Asia,
flip up and land in Australia—
a little dirt from every land dusted on my face,
my sweat in every country,
my piss in every ocean,
my shitting foods of every people.
Canada, Chile, Siberia, Outback, Sahara.
In hundreds of languages, thousands of sounds,
one word repeats.
Quiet comes and goes
to alarm clock buzz dream break.
Awake.
Turn off muted television science show,
body longing for the moon.
TRAVEL DREAM (edit 1)
A television prison lights the living room.
I'm shackled by the sofa cushions watching nature
shows on mute.
Adrift upon a stream of sleep,
the voiceless tone of quiet comes.
“Qu,” the wind blows.
In the middle “I” am floating.
The water murmurs, “e,” around me.
Tree branches tap the “t.”
I stretch my arms and legs,
—left foot in N. America,
right foot in S. America,
left arm in Europe,
right arm in Africa,
summersault into Asia,
flip up and land in Australia—
a little dirt from every land dusted on my face,
my sweat in every country,
my piss in every ocean,
my shit of foods of every people.
Canada, Chile, Siberia, Outback, Sahara.
In hundreds of languages, thousands of sounds,
no matter where I listened, the meaning never changed.
Then back into the quiet,
awaking to a science show,
television muted,
longing for the moon.
TRAVEL DREAM
Television prison lights the living room,
the shackles of the sofa,
a nature show on mute,
drifting away into sleep,
quiet current,
the only sound, the voiceless tone of quiet.
The wind blows ‘qw.’
‘I’ am in the middle.
The ‘e’ is the water beside me.
The ‘t’ is the tap of tree branches.
I stretch my arms and legs,
--left foot in N. America,
right foot in S. America,
left arm in Europe,
right arm in Africa,
summersault into Asia,
flip up and land in Australia—
a little dirt from every land dusted on my face,
sweat in every country,
piss in every ocean,
shit the food of every people,
Siberia, Sahara,
Chile, Canada,
to finally shout an answer
to calling global corners,
but only finding quiet,
then longing for the moon,
then waking to a science show,
television muted.
[/b]
A television prison lights the living room
with the flicker of a nature show on mute.
Body shackled by sofa cushions
and drifting down a stream of dreams.
The voiceless tone of quiet comes.
“Qu,” the wind blows.
In the middle “I” am floating.
The water murmurs, “e,” around me.
Tree branches tap the “t.”
I stretch my arms and legs,
—left foot in N. America,
right foot in S. America,
left arm in Europe,
right arm in Africa,
summersault into Asia,
flip up and land in Australia—
a little dirt from every land dusted on my face,
my sweat in every country,
my piss in every ocean,
my shitting foods of every people.
Canada, Chile, Siberia, Outback, Sahara.
In hundreds of languages, thousands of sounds,
one word repeats.
Quiet comes and goes
to alarm clock buzz dream break.
Awake.
Turn off muted television science show,
body longing for the moon.
TRAVEL DREAM (edit 1)
A television prison lights the living room.
I'm shackled by the sofa cushions watching nature
shows on mute.
Adrift upon a stream of sleep,
the voiceless tone of quiet comes.
“Qu,” the wind blows.
In the middle “I” am floating.
The water murmurs, “e,” around me.
Tree branches tap the “t.”
I stretch my arms and legs,
—left foot in N. America,
right foot in S. America,
left arm in Europe,
right arm in Africa,
summersault into Asia,
flip up and land in Australia—
a little dirt from every land dusted on my face,
my sweat in every country,
my piss in every ocean,
my shit of foods of every people.
Canada, Chile, Siberia, Outback, Sahara.
In hundreds of languages, thousands of sounds,
no matter where I listened, the meaning never changed.
Then back into the quiet,
awaking to a science show,
television muted,
longing for the moon.
TRAVEL DREAM
Television prison lights the living room,
the shackles of the sofa,
a nature show on mute,
drifting away into sleep,
quiet current,
the only sound, the voiceless tone of quiet.
The wind blows ‘qw.’
‘I’ am in the middle.
The ‘e’ is the water beside me.
The ‘t’ is the tap of tree branches.
I stretch my arms and legs,
--left foot in N. America,
right foot in S. America,
left arm in Europe,
right arm in Africa,
summersault into Asia,
flip up and land in Australia—
a little dirt from every land dusted on my face,
sweat in every country,
piss in every ocean,
shit the food of every people,
Siberia, Sahara,
Chile, Canada,
to finally shout an answer
to calling global corners,
but only finding quiet,
then longing for the moon,
then waking to a science show,
television muted.
Thanks to this Forum
