sometimes the stars make me feel like a flower
all this changing space
and the sun sets atop a single ocean wave.
But are bottles sleeping swayed
like glass, reflecting shooting stars
or burns in glances, where under the rising moon
eyes die and again.
under a twisting sphere of light, blue to be the sky
garden winds drop flowers at your walking feet-
so your eyes soo green the vining air of
this floating white room.
We kiss and walls turn red in our eyes closed
in embrace.
between blinking and lights dream the moon
winter in summer's wake
as rain drops red on tomorrow so white horizons.
you might ask though
"what is beyond a dream"
and your mind turns with aching heart faces
toward oceans white where glass fish swim
like light shattering in night and only your eyes
float with laughter. Because somewhere beyond dreams
we're holding hands in this moment.
You might smile and my heart will stretch
fuller than a pearl-
flightingly implications of why clouds
smell just as stars at night, to
collide in swimming memories-you
shatter light (in glass tomorrows)
behind a raindrop but before your mouth,
warmth breaks green on the back of my heart
as if rain were cold in recollection
In an aquarium you're falling
like clouds could hang over wooden rooftops
and light tumble off holes in the ceiling
In a dream I died and woke into night.
I'm relearning how to live from starlight
because the melody makes my heart cry
and I feel so warm-like a river
The calm of skies wooden blue
when you step into cold water
just before candles turn all the windows
and rooftops to night.
But beneath all these widening atmospheres
true stars-more floating than sunset-
softly waters my slow beating heart.
Everywhere your dreams rain down.
I can't escape the icy lights on the horizon,
upon your crying iris dreams grow warm
and flowers fold out of pure black ocean.
Though feeling cold pressed against my eye
reminds me of your kisses
and I feel so slow under white clouds.
Posted at 12:12 pm by
Stephen Mather