Dreamdom
Morning shades summon
Beginning your mistranslation
This transient dream wafts into view
And the tincture of words loses their color
Desaturation begins its own day
As it pleases, begging for an explanation
Recurring memiors of remanded mists
Through the years their fading tints
recurrently speak
Until one morning you wake up and get it
Now you should speak
It’s all about the lake isn't it?!
The lake where you have lived your lives
Side by each your whole life
Each one from but never quite in
on the wrong side of the mirror
There are rocks and rills and roaring glens
Renovated relationships
And other reticent plans
That you haven't the balls for
You found there a cigar box of
Forgotten photographs, latent as
colors you have never seen
At the lake there shines a naive light upon
Dormant mansions with day-glow gardens
From whence you’ve oft pluct
A single white rose, and indulgently
Thorn-less and obliging
They always indulge you
They lower their gaze
from your stare
Like they do
And do things to a man there
Which he nurses until the day he wakes up
Until the name of the Source of all colors
Can no longer linger upon his breath
Good luck with explaining it
But you should step up to the easel and try
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