The Dreaming

At night,
on my back
on the grass...
I see the stars.

Bright pulsation of the cosmos.

Each one a little white shining dream.
Each a reminder I now am asleep...
and drifting peacefully...until

Day comes.

Stars Gone.
I am man.
Erect.
Biped.
Reality
reluctantly setting in.

I
now
am
awake.

Busy,
not noticing the invisible sleepy dream-stars,

I forget they are still
there, masked by the bright open light of day...
still
there
behind my own veil of distractions...

The dream-star is still
there...
The dreaming is still
here...
no matter what I do.

As the stars are,
I am never
awake.

What freedom this
waking dream...

To tango with you in the dark and light
as a fish and bear on the Milky Way. Grab
my suitcase! Let's slide down the bumpy
strand of Mozarts toupé hair. Take those
billion elephant sandwiches from inside and give
them to the penguin...

What freedom
we remember!

Undo

Before you I stand
in the theatre

watch how our bodies move.

Limbs, hands, legs, all we are

articulate

articulate

down to the

the minutia of us

articulate

The whole of who we are cannot be gotten at once
like the whole truth we could speak cannot be spoken at once

We break down into smaller parts,
into words, and string them along to each other
one by one

tossing popcorn into your mouth, and
you into mine.

Backwards, we will reassemble each other, we will undo.

To me, you are who I make you. To you, I am what you make me.

Replay that scene in the Garden for me now.

Undo

Undo

Undo