***
curious quality
of
the dream
where all things
are possible
***
***
"Good day Sir"
he always
said
to
the magpies
***
the
dream
lives
in the tales
that are told
***
***
the
butterfly
within
alive
and fluttering
***
the road
just
sat there
it didn't take her anywhere
she had to do the walking
***
***
she
entertained
a mind picture
then
she could understand
***
the words
in my
head
get tired
sometimes
***
the second hand
going
round the clock
slicing
fragments of time
***
***
the
roses
fade
but the heart
remembers
***
***
words
the
lamp
guiding
footsteps
***
stones
don't
age
or
wrinkle
***
***
emptiness
stillness
perception
detachment
in perpetuity
***
***
metaphysical
discussions
far
into
the night
***
***
the mist
separated her
from herself
but sometimes
it cleared
***
with writing
the voices
grew quieter
they
became the stories
***
not
yet
memories
but
something earlier
***
***
the
words
slipped
off the surface
of her mind
***
***
she wanted to read
words
of love
not fear
and worry
***
the real
and unreal
slid together
as
one
***
she was
about
to say something
but they went back
to the place of unsaid words
***
she
settled
quietly
inside
of herself
***
***
I liked
you
better
when
I barely knew you
***
***
I'm
a
mystery
to
me
***
