like a mountain covered green with so many trees that changes with the passing of time. today is light green, then tomorrow it's yellow and then brown. as slowly as the sun goes down to the west the light will depart and the dark will swallow your well laid out plans. it's like an endless freeway with so many kinks and turns, with so many exits. you get confused with the signs in front of your eyes. too glaring, too green and the signal is not enough. you did not understand. and you end up getting lost with the sparrows in your hand, flying out into the desert and your dream gone in a split second as you're being swallowed by the signs and the signals of the road of your own life. the streets where the main target is lost and now you are here trying to figure out how to begin again and be on the road once more..."The Revisionist's Dream" by Renee Ashley...what a wonderful poem, i love it :)
Old as sea water. And the dream as large as a sea. We dream like that. And longer than that. Wider. And hear the sound of bleak bells like flat stone on flat stone. We stand -- our hands are empty and the floor is steep, the floor is a deep sea with fish like stones who call like bells. Like brittle bells. And the song is running water. And the water is rising.
And the prison we choose is narrow, and we swear we never dreamed those walls. So the way the light breaks out from the night is how we break away, how we carry our lives like a sack or a sadness -- and we are just a river; the water is sweet, is shallow, is slow but the dream is dark and smoky, like a woman's hair let down. It winds like that.
