Valley of My Wakefulness

For a warm while I was wrapped
in desire like a ray from the sun
entering atmosphere of memory
high slow and cloudlike
the dirigible of morning emotions
wanting a where
to hone in on from above
but not land
that would end
the drifting post-dream
navigation swaying through
the skirts the slips the delicates
of the grinning sky
goddess. So far the span
of a fantasy at the same time
exposed and blanketed
peak-topped and greay-bearded
heart-throbbed with honey
pumping the rest of life
through hoping circulation
I rose first hawk of the day
and descended through canyons
where you constantly
carve your trickling way
to the valley
of my wakefulness.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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