Ocean

At the shore
of the universe, the sudden
turn of lotus eyelids,
human folly escapes
these lips and the dreamer
dreams us up.

At the whistle
of this breath, the poem
of death unread, our wisdom
chokes
on its words and the dreamer dreams us up.
The dreamer dreams dreams of us,
sipping life past a lazy night,
washing our passions out
loud
in clouds
of haste, the dreamer dreams us up.

Nostalgia

I left that easy bed for
a few nights
of sleepless nostalgia, a whisper
of past memories, knowing
I must for cords unbroked.
The wishes whispered by ears of benign revolution - we wept
at the prophetic words
of alien lives, the strums
keeping us awake through
the walls of sold memories. Each sip
a grin, each swig a sip melancholy,
each each
grabbing each each
through
forgotten reveries of unforgotten reveries.
Each each
eaching
each
soul
to death, each death
recorded with each life towards each hell.

A haiku for your
pleasure. Time flows slow
when sitting alone.

An odd eve; strangers:
conversation is idle.
Life comes full circle.