Heavy asleep tucked in the woods so deep in a cabin all alone, a crackling fire and all is
warm. Through the thickness a light shines through cracks in the door.
It’s a sign, inside a dream from the heavens divine. Through the door breathing hard, eyes
gazing up high among the stars. What has taken a soul out this far?
A since of peace in mind; strolling, sniffing the tall pines in quest for the light that still shines.
An infinite pursuit of all time, taking toll to be paid by what’s in mind.
Sanity holding just a grip, closer to the light a mind’s in flight. Memories of one’s life flash in
smiles and sorrows, the times you once had won’t be needed tomorrow.
Ceasing to think and figure out a life is declining away and this is the way out. Turn back on
humanity memoir strode about, not ready to go yet, this is a life-long time out.
In the Dream in a Dark Forrest the light is all about, head toward the light and a peaceful
death is the way out.
James C Bryant Jr.
January 15, 2003
I had a good dream
I wanted to remember
Could not remember
Good dream so I thought
Took an internet dream course
Now remembering
My memory came
Somethings are best left alone
Scared me to death
Sometimes I stop for a second,
And reach deep inside my head,
Grab a hand full of nonsense,
Before I go to bed,
Because I like my dreams to be,
Over the top crazy,
Not some stupid dramatic memory,
Like my minds being lazy,
I love a dream that,
When I tell someone,
They think that I should never,
Be allowed to own a gun,
Or when animals chase me,
Those dreams are fun,
The only dream I hate,
Is the waterfall one.
Simulacrum Soul
Are you a dream
Did I consider and formulate
The prose images
Which captivate my soul
So completely
And well up from me
Such a missing
As to leave me hanging
Useless
On tones of desire
Are you a dream
Romantic held
And beauty seen
Someone I may once have
Known
The touch of you
Lingers
My fingertips reminisce
Somewhere in my soul
Are you a dream
A dream of waiting
A dream of longing
A pounding echo of
Having
Spoken so close
I
Your neck once felt
The brush of my breath
Fall soft tingled
Turned your ear
To my lips
I
Whispered then
I love you
While my arms in worship
Wrapped about you
Only to bring
The depths of your eyes
Closer
So much closer
To mine
Are you a dream
I think not
The first concern: mysterious babies.
Please let's turn to a new perplexion:
the emergence of the grown-up things.
Alzheimer's, or catching rabies?
Faint, like changing fashion bouts?
or a sudden busting-at-the-gut.
Lazy clouds plumping up
or a piñata thundercloud bottoming out?
Consider this working theory of mine:
the great, petrified, adult spine
evolves on eons of childish pining;
horses rue the portly giraffe.
Or - it is a soundless exchange;
we enter blind the portal of sleep.
Slippers, oblivious, on welcome heat:
two charring wisps in an innocent furnace…
You told me, once, that sheep dream of people-
people dream of sheep and fences in a giant
dance like the earth and sun and years, be patient,
count one-two-three (fall asleep).
But I continue to burst from cakes
for my own overgrown sakes-
to breath the knowledge of wishes.