WakeUpToTheDream

           At the crisic coincidence of the death dream and the day-lit moon             the universe swells up                       and exhales           plunging to a crushing point           dense and dark with tactility He thinks that We are unbounded and that      There is a garden – heavy scented through which a hot stream                                sluices,                                stirring silt&guilt&tension thirsty trees caressing, bend & silent,         crowd us on our path He thinks that There have been other gardens tasting of salt & musk & virgin air                           slick with humidity

I. I am an alien. I am alone. I am out- sider, different, lurker, lone wolf, impostor            I         am a      Cerebral        Thing            . I am impassive I am judging               calculating. I am open and blunt like an unsheathed sword simple, but mysterious,  maybe I am inhuman.    I am cold. But in the never ending crash-drone of the city                 in the swirling dust and plumeria I am a person          embraced by another You smell like grass and               momentum, maybe               like sweat and salt water you smell like Humanity and                  you smell like me. II. Me