insomnia. night after night i fall into an incomprehensible dreamscape: drowning in a shallow pool, trying to rescue photographs from a flood, tangled in the fallen branches of a rotted tree. only to wake up at two in the morning. a bottle of maalox. a homeopathic chamomile remedy. my lover snoring.
an angel drags its cape across the cold floor. not even my velvet duvet can warm me. somewhere someone must be whirling in a ritual of autumn leaves. believing in his spell. his potent call. his stance. his vision. his gift.
i can't believe today, autumn equinox again. the ripening of the harvest. fruition. i am here, but elsewhere poetry whispers to me. elsewhere.
a tribe of compassionate souls sit around a fire, exchanging stories, smiles.
elsewhere.
i am dancing under a disco ball and sweating and laughing uncontrollably.
elsewhere.
i am wandering the streets of a foreign city. i am sitting in a steam bath, a tea salon, a train compartment, a park bench near a fountain, an art museum.
elsewhere.
i am someone's whispered secret. someone's wish. someone's hope. i am the fragrance that clings to their sweater. the little bite on their shoulder blade. the tangle in their hair. the iris petal on the pillow. the voice on the other end of the telephone. the author of a love letter.
elsewhere.
i am spinning into a vision. i am a red full moon. i am dew on the cornflowers. i am the trill of a hummingbird. i am a lucid erotic dream. i am vapor rising from a tidepool. i am beyond the biggest cloud, the horizon line, the point of infinity.
