only in fingertip dreams

And as the moonlight fades, from my favourite photograph,
The memory of her undercurrents and my moments of pre flower voices,
Rescued in an open field,
Her fallopian cadence and my soda edge fire balls,
Rocking in alien time, the sky holds my hand,

In the fading expanse of space,
I hear the distant cry of doves in empty flight,
The descending sun, the rising cat eyes,
A stone rolls out of my mouth, with pieces of sepal antidotes,
Resources for my hands callous from worshipping the sand,
The back of the room always shifting and drifting,
More anonymous hints and echoes in the mirror animal,
A wheeze in a wicca wind.

Time becoming space, space becoming time,
The sky touches my head,
Two cups,
Déjà vu in the edges of the rosetta stone,

The edge of the light from a distant star that collapsed millions of years ago,
Touches the now fallen petals,
Dark circles under the skin of circumstance
Winking in distrust,
The tide in fuzzy ear boxes,
A place, a name, a time,
Fields unstable and dry,
Secret miles,
Would remake all the glows of the background hues,
The essence of all that is shared, understood without the explicit meaning,

The substance of memory unravels to reveal the flower pools,
Round soft doors in the wind, rumours from the foreign accents of the lady in the lake,
Fragile wings covered in darkness stretch the milliseconds between my hands,
Tiny strings that wont steady the rain of all my relations,
In the oceans pressure scales, one weight absorbs another, rides on another,
Whispers to another, suspended electric forwarded costs of hiding and holding , seven black liquid diamond tides with burning ruby points,
Endless swimming absorbtions in the land of milk and honey,

Evaporations in my ears, balloons in my eyes,
The soft circles of life completely disperse,
I walked backwards through the pages of my thoughts,
Clue by clue shadows erupt, step by step through the expanding avalanche in a dark grey hall,
Frail drying traces of venous lattice decaying, the edges so thin, I fell and slept,
I never noticed she left,
The doors remained the same, turn and pull,
But my hands could not hold together the shady presence,
The Vatican vortex conviction of my vision,
I burrow down into the sea,
Of all the seeds in all the fields,
All the modes of understanding,
I dream she sits under a blue moon,
A secret to her own fantasy,

Today outside the boundary lines
Dust and synapses forge fresh silouettes of the frozen eclipses,
Gifts buried in the long and ever winding red road,

Outside the power lines,
It’s my birthday,
I find the true cradle of my being,
The true gift that was already mine,
The passages and reflections,
Discover origins of knowing its own experience
Rich secrets in the air between us,
A pair of clouds, a pair of towers,
Weave twinkles of flame dancing in my mouth,