Monday, August 22, 2011


Permission to be lucid:
(ok, go).
Deeply, deeply
we transition
ice barriers, an iceberg
deeply, deeply
the body drifts, we go.
(a body at rest beaming bright white lights
of the forever nothing we all already are, or
have always become).
Upon arriving we saddle
and grind until one or the other
is made uncomfortable.
The corners of the room are contrived
and pink.
The more intimately I look
for them the less apparent they are.
Our hands of two, wash away
into the air, formless
I use them to hold things
though we both know
they aren't there.
Really there is only one of us
and we are headless.
Lampshade, lampshade
the lighting doesn't flicker
or vary
in the land of eternal dusk.
You are my twilight lover,
my one and only, my intertwined synapse.
Permission to be lucid:
(ok, go).
Doorway, doorway
we have floated through
another doorway
another time that looks like real time
(but it is always real time once you acknowledge
the perpetual dreamstate of all of mankind).
My spirit body enters this room
to heal my spirit organs
which look like real organs
and are real organs
now that I acknowledge the perpetual suffering
of all of mankind.
I am in the cathedral of all dreamers
and here, a man
long and winding
takes me up a grand crystal staircase
into a hallway
that everyone has been to before.
I have no hands because
they are falling apart.
Permission to be lucid:
(ok, go).

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