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In an effort to dream,
I laid my eyes down in a narrow
river to appease the grass with its
government of bark and
burial. Finally,
I realized it was words I wanted
to close my hands. I put down my ear.
Coming up from down there,
the sweet soup-smell carried
a name, by current, to
dream in my long-distance
body. Proudly, I laid my body down,
and sent the rest
of the wet boat--bent when
used--to finally
whisper a slowly realized love. I
lay down a third time,
the light coming down on the line
to each sweet sense.
Composed entirely with words excerpted from
"The Dream" by Marie Howe and "The Quiet World" by Jeffery McDaniel
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