unable to wake

I remained

behind the ruin of a memory

 

a Chinese serpent

swerving in the currents

of my dormant eyelids

 

nothingness was a province

where an obsidian pyramid

stood against a starless night

 

there in bed

roving like a raving raven

within the

delicate depths of darkness

 

surrounded by

a deep moat –

the dark waters

of space

swallowing any ray of light

that may cross over

to my dispossessed eyes

 

lone

existing alone

light as perishable infancy;

heavy as a bridge above years

 

a statue

untying itself

from its surface

of imitation

 

so I squandered the imported

bullion of dreams

and with quivering fascination

became empty and
bankrupt

of image

 

unable to wake

I surrendered

like

a history

written on the soft

tissue of the spirit –

never to be

read.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry