Imposed by you, sleeping now:
There is a great, great valley in my mind,
Funneling a wired stream of memories,
Promises and destinations.
And slow through the coming days they
Will unfold, bursting open and then:
Long drives through concrete valleys
And alleys rotten with ash that kills.
Will you show me to your driveway
When the time is right to abolish
Your sad hill of papers and destroy
The habits we’ve whipped to keep.
And the valley fills to the dusty cap,
With all this florid air and waterfalls
Of wine, ‘till I resurface tomorrow,
Where maybe, possibly, a lunar hope,
I will be rooted to the sands of the surface
By the cave of your hand which I only scrape
Because we are consistently without candle.
I pray our fingers fold to a floodgate,
To let all this in; to keep all else out.
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