walking dream

the morning shyly moves away
in waves of mist and cream;
and i move damp with spray and sand
into a walking dream

the dimly cast horizon sits
beyond the veil of sight;
where time stands loosely, hands by sides,
and day melds into night

your breath i hear, your touch i feel,
as light as feathered gauze;
the scent of ocean waves and kelp,
as hope – with its own laws

and so the mists of morningside
surround and pierce through me;
the walking dream of one who’s still
at one with

The Sacred Strand

My thoughts are often on the sea,
Or where it meets the land;
A part of my knight-errantry
As o’er the globe I’ve spanned

In lavender and purple hues
Brave Helios has set;
Across, its slanting rays diffuse
Into a violet

The footsteps of a pilgrim there
Upon the holy coast;
As sea-songs scatter to the air
The amaranthine host

Then I sit down upon the sand
And face towards the sea:
A moment on the sacred strand
Of pure

The Dream of the Blue Motel

I do not dream tonight about the sky,
I dream instead of moonlight on a pool;
A place I’ve never been to, never seen —
A motel, somewhere, faintly lit with gold.

I grew up in a world that loved motels.
As station wagons roamed across the land,
My people transmigrated every year;
A new soul found on every three week trip.

But here went forty years, and I have seen
More luxury than my dad ever did:
And motels are a cheap alternative
That we pass by for some other resort.

But yet, in blue and gold under the moon
I dream of what was beauty
And still is

(Is it bad when you start to dream in blank verse? – Owen)

A Spectral Existence

… my dreams…

The wind barely sweeps o’er the grass
And only slightly ripples the puddles
Moonlight slouches out from behind the clouds
As I drift through the yard unseen

Darkness holds the earth
Daylight memories of this place break in
Like bursts of static
Only to be swallowed up by the night

And lonely I am as only one can be
Whose dreams pull him back to the scene
Of his biggest mistakes, his secret sorrows
Turned now into
An almost-silent movie

maybe dreams of emerald water

just maybe.

maybe dreams of emerald water
will afford me peace and rest;
maybe hope’s fair ocean daughter
will my willingness attest

that i hope is several fathoms
fathoming my heart’s desire;
emerald waves united anthem
to retire or

Revenant Planet

I woke up to this other world
Of dreams and phantoms, distant suns;
The watered wastes surrounded me
In reticence both cold and gray
The eerie, haunted day

I felt your ghost beside me there
The terror cold within my chest;
Infinity, directionless —
To row although there was no shore
Just row for evermore

A revenant back from the dead
Among the lifeless planet there;
An alien without a home,
An endless ache of wanting –
With only me
For haunting