Vibrations at dawn as I, unwilling, slip
to the outer world of non-wonders
bland chapels, gray cities, cement playroom �
the grand facade shared by us.
Residue on my skin of night miracles
I lay feeling an intrinsic whispering hand
caress the channels of blood flowing through the vessels of my skin �
you�re a ghost next to me.
The ache arcs and ascends assaulting my heart
murmuring melodies of my majestic lover
who does not awake, who is not real
who becomes distant with the onslaught of dawn
and remains a dream � clouded � translucent.
I wait patient pilgrim praying to anticipate
your overdue arrival into my world
where the street�s heat simmers and
becomes an avenue � a channel on which
our gondola glides in smooth even strokes
toward a castle where tomorrow land awaits.
I move trembling across the territory
sheets, searching crevices to find the
resilient skin of my travel weary knight
to find nothing but the supple give of
clean white sheets � pure, unstained.
I moan, pushing, pressing, knotting myself
to drown, to fall, to be caught forever in sleep.
Copyright �1998 by Toshi Casey. All rights reserved.
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