the tongue that dreamed
a frantic flute, that dreamed
a silent, silver bird.

my fluttering dream
would welcome you, if only
i could hold it still.

clap, so i can hear.
peck, so i can feel.
sing, so i can know.
fly, so i am real.

feathers or ashes
of dreams, after
the eruption.

tyranosaurus rex
in dreams, hunting
my calculated shadow.

a dream that paranoia
wears a mask, a dream
of making friends.

if making flying friends
were catching dreams, and we
could end in feather pillows.

the dream of never
waking up again,
wordlessly dying.

it was a dream
of being caught, inside
a dream of flying.

the dream that nobody
could see, but me,
impending doom.

the home that was
a dream went blind,
lost its front door.

dreams of being
alone, of singing
alone, dreams of
dreaming alone, dreams

of losing dreams.
infractions against,
invasions of dreams.

the dream of infiltration
into enemy dreams, the scream
of sleeper cells.

the pirates' signal never
came, as dream-boat
boarded, and lost dreams.

it was a dream of skin.
your breath was dusty
odors of incense.

the shadow of a longing
of a dream, believing
its beloved real.

make yourself, hate
yourself, to dream
a self to steal.

be yourself, for
yourself, intones
the oldest dream.

the dream that anything
is new, the dream
of bones, or boundaries.

the dream of tangled
passages, too late, on roller
skates, for failed classes.

the dreams of ancestry,
a mother-tongue, essential
tribes or dying gods.

a dream of brooding
heat, the barren
dream of sun.

of long-lost love, a dream
of driving faster, over
edges, metric destiny.

i dreamed a giant, quaking
my pigeon heart, in shock
trembling terribly.

it cannot move, breast-
pressed for dreaming, cannot
turn around.

no territory, why the blade,
and how? the clapping thunderous
winged suffering, of dreams.

where is the dream,
anywhere, anything?
where does it end.

the war we won
a dream, the games
we played. the ones

we sung, the war
we lost —

//