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Another Dream

Sleep's an insomniac lover
reading ancient odes, fiery
dirge and death, voice laden
with violence, sex and honey

Dreams are a repetitious chaos
chanting that pulsates somberly
like electricity

This is a rock
This is a rock in a park
This is a park with a rock
where green grass grows.
There is a tree with a shadow
near the rock in the park where
the green grass grows

Again. Over and over,
silent images of a screaming
rock. Again. Over and over.
I cannot stop.

Frantic replay.

This is a rock that bends
time and space in a park
that exists only in my mind
where the green grass grows
and a tree casts a sad shadow
to remind the light that there
is always darkness, that speed
is relative to its existence, that
one with out the other means
nothing

I want to beg the rock to speak,
cut the tree down, and turn green
green grass that grows into ashes

"I am not Moab! My father is
simply my brother and my sister's
only my mother when all else is
dead."

There is this rock in a park
where the green grass grows
and a tree stands silently
casting darkness over the land.
There is bench near the rock
under the tree atop the green
green grass where a scarlet
bible sits

"This is not Eden and I am
not Moab. This beginning
is one of many."

Head is heavy, light
sears through darkness
cast by dirty curtains

I am a rock in a bed
bending time and space...

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