Nightmares

            I close my eyes
            the nightmare begins
            thousand year oaks
            awaken.
        
            Drifting away
            in this spiritual wake
            each epileptic flash
            reveals a petrified face.

            Wise men, witch's
            and fairies
            riding on the backs
            of fallen leaves.

            Bearded elders
            reclaiming the past
            with crescent moon eyes
            and skin made of ash.

            This is the place
            where the dead live again
            and the chants of the dying
            turn trees into men.