Photographs, Poetry from The Well

Where To Keep Your Dreams

snow2014

Does your tongue dare

try to share

watery scenes from your dreams?

Details emerge, blunted,

soggy, half-blind beneath this morning’s

heavy traffic – thoughts stretching, streaming

out from wherever they sleep.

Dreams pay a heavy price when

words catch up – latch on – smudge

the elusive dream language.

Don’t dreams just taste better

safe in the solitude

of your heart’s cradle,

sleeping undisturbed?

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Photographs, Poetry from The Well

Winter Mornings

wintry

Have you one person

knocking at your heart?

She has grown too big

for the space you cleared out

years ago.

You feel her nudge

on winter mornings;

across the mountains

her body rests

warm and safe in bed.

But her dreaming eyes

soak up secrets leaking

through her dreams –

she is being chased –

she is trapped at the very top –

she is lost – she is slipping –

Is that you chasing her?

You just wish her thoughts

spun soft,

light as the tapering snow.

Beneath the blanket

she grips hot sheets

with sweating hands.

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Poetry from The Well

Home Is Where the Thought Is

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Where will our dream go

when we’ve moved into our dream home?

I’m safe and still in this thought of a house

on a hill, where chickens pepper grass

that needs mowing.

We’re inside, us two, writing words

and dreaming of our other worlds.

At night we’ll sleep and wander

farther still, or deeper.

Outside fireflies will flicker dimly,

mimicking the sky’s starry layers.

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