I am Walking (a dream poem):

I am walking down a street I know
and for some inexplicable reason
I turn left instead of right
that old song playing in my head
for days: "On a quiet street where
old ghosts meet..."
Strangers come and go like abstractions
of light, colours so profound they
tear at the veins behind my eyes
and disturb my thinking
my only given thought is:

Yesterdays builders are tearing down
the walls of reality, fighting for chaos
that these castles might fall
lest every slave be made free

"You are a monster..." These were
the last words she spoke. The night
we made love like hungry wolves.
Biting into one another's flesh without
kissing, stooping to sentimentality.
"The night is our guardian... your
lips taste of copper, your flesh is
wax beneath my fingers, your eyes
like fire melt into me, burn through
my blood vessels. You are the sun
and winter moon to me. And yet I
fear your kindness means death..."