The Mystic’s Dream

A mystic dives into the clear

summer sea through garlands

of seaweed he sees

a navel of eels

spiraling upwards.

He pauses his crafty strokes

and ponders the meaning of this.

The sun flashes through his

humming ears and sharks

pull at his sorcerer’s cape.

A word immerses his thoughts

and the pit is pulled from


He drowns with the hungry

sharks until there is no more

of his mind to eat,

and is left to circumnavigate

the sun from the surface

under the deep,

reflecting the movements

of the upward swimming


Some change is necessary

Some change is necessary to keep walking

when birds can no longer carry you,

when the sky has turned black and life

has migrated to the land of forgotten shadows.

When tracks in fields give ways to red dragonflies

hovering above a cast iron sun

it is time to reach even further

into tomorrow and let astral rain dry

the rivers and fill them with clouds.

Have you given enough in

to change?

The nights will ransack you and if

they find you wanting they will make you

labor in front of the mirror until

your reflection dissolves into droplets

and you are no longer a surface of skin

but a bundle of electricity in need

of a glass house to prove

that you exist.

Time grew wings and flew

Time grew wings and flew

backwards into the sunset.

It hid in the dark and disregarded

the stars travelling past.

But time did not change,

no matter how far back it ran.

Change happened anyway;

light to dark, young to old, life to death

and death to life again.

So time re-emerged

defeated and worn out

it realized it had become

a ghost, obsolete and forgotten

as life had continued to turn in its absence.

Borrowed History

We borrowed our history,

collaging it together to create

a more appropriate narrative

where the building blocks

were cut from books we read

and movies we watched together.

We pretended to exist on a plane

where we cast no shadows,

existing only in fragments of time

skipping like a dreamscape

from narrative to narrative.