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August 24, 2011 - Webcam photo
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Mainly a record of my more interesting dreams that I was able to remember after waking up. (Apparently my uncontrollable confessions, as well. In the form of poetry. All to the same man.)
If the boy who draws
lets you look over his shoulder.
If the poet
and shows you her words.
If the girl who sings for the shower only,
hums a song
in front of you.
Know that you’re no longer a person
but the air
that fills their lungs.
When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
you’ll remain inside an ink stain,
a paint brush,
— Alaska Gold