Sometimes daydreams are as thick as dreams
The voice you hear in them echos, a living voice,
You make a decision within their arena, vital
Decisions you don’t make every day or just any day,
The person inside them is dying but here she’s fine,
She’s vibrant, she has a lot on her sharp mind,
Not only for herself but for the country; she asked
Whether I could come with her to some rally
I said No, I believe resistance is more subtle
Or something to that effect as she gave harsh eyes
Asking herself without asking me how I could become
So insipid and so uncaring, like some lump really
Instead of a man, then we laughed casually,
She patted me on my hurt shoulder and that
Is when I woke, hurting my neck but not from the pain,
Woke because of how dense she was, her hand
More substantial than anything I am seeing now,
Anything I can put my hands on now; it is all thinning
Quickly, the air above me, the thick contents of the dream.
Published by Richard Q
A human being-question chasing after both God and nothingness. The internet is a disaster, but our starlessness might teach us something. I welcome our constant experimenting with ourselves with open arms, for ultimately they are attempts of life at living and growing in life. My dwelling is in Key West, while the dwellings of my loves are Indiana, New Mexico, Texas, Massachusetts and Arizona. These spaces are nothing. Love abides and love embraces.
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Love the Dust 