Dream-Sequence

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DREAM-SEQUENCE


It’s the moment right before you slip 

to sleep, or on the other end 

as you first peer over the edge 

of waking, the bulk of you still dangling 

over the precipice, that the dream 

remains—or nearly—logical,  


connective threads still visible

and glistening with dew,

and for a few minutes 

the surreal making a kind of sense, 

questions of how or why

unnecessary to parcel out


the inner-workings of a world

where two plus two could equal 

anything from four to your

mother, dead for years now, 

tightening the handle-bar brackets

on her Schwinn and telling you

she's ready for the ride.


What is faith if not this

thin space between worlds

elongated into a life,

where even a god could cry

himself to sleep at night

and men be nursed into gods

without needing to justify themselves.



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