Road

On a road
lined with trees
birds hang nests
clouds furrow the sky
their great white fingers
clawing away at dawn
and I am making
a nest of my own
in your arms
hanging from fingers
edged damp with sweat
daubing the world's wounds
that run like tears
like blood
boiling down
to a black syrup
a pool of tar
gathering at my feet.

© PW

Wakefulness

How can one love
the equilibrium of sleep
when breath flows
between worlds
chasing emptiness
anchored in blood,
where invisible horizons
ooze hours
and eyes grow thick
in their sockets;
How many find life
in a bottomless well
unlit by moonlight
where dawn never rises?

© PW

Some Dreams

Some dreams are like nights
we could not finish
or days that would not come
and when a shipload of old faces
would steal the moon
leaving a silver wafer
to haunt the empty space
no one asked, "Is it real?"
In a pond
melancholy lovers
pour out stars
like blue flames
and when I pass
we look at one another,
eyes soaked with midnight
white irises, white teeth
lips that open to receive the sky.
© PW