Fever Dreams

Friends,

Many of you have already bought a copy of my first book of poems, 'Ephemeron'. If you are one of those people, thank you. If not, don't worry, you can buy it here: http://www.wordclay.com/BookStore/BookStoreBookDetails.aspx?bookid=70747

Here is one of the featured poems in 'Ephemeron': Fever Dreams (I)

Fever Dreams I

I’m sorry to cut it short-

Us short-

Tonight I’ll dream

Of you-

Of us-

In Fever Dreams-

I’ll wake up

And shout something

To the stoic walls-

My head will hit the

Pillow like a

Coffin

And the sounds of

death will be

Known to me-

I’m sorry to be so short-

My temper-

So short-

I don’t scream to bend,

Break, or exhaust you-

To feel-

I scream to feel-

To test a half-dead love

And give it life-

Are we… half—dead?

The night is colder…
But what does it mean?

I don’t like being short-

Short of ideas-

To turn this around-

I’ve touched the ceiling,

Thumb-bent, palm-out-

All the night it seems

Seems I still have nothing-

Can’t forget the laugh

Of Dreams past- still shutter

When my eyelids flutter

To the jaundiced light of day-

Sweat mats my hair

Stings my eyes,

And I long for the brief Respite, when-

The father of lies

Left his mark upon my eyes,

I-know his name-

Sandman- oh, God

What a lover!

I am short-

Sure, short on words.

I am sorry to be –short-

So short, as to be

A child to a towering world

Short on Promise,

I am shorn of strength-

No longer like staring

At the chest of life,

Yearning for solidarity

Solid, sure, -tall-
TALL… that’s what they want-

Stretching their muscles

And fusing their hands—

Tall, I want to look into their eyes-

His eyes,

I wrap the blanket,

Like a burial gown ‘round my waist-

Wish we could stay-

Short,

Short on Time-

Short on Promise

Short…

On Life

Sorry.