There is a circle of growth,

a watering of slumber, as the

eyes retreat to the outlands of

shadows where incoming messages

open to hallways of sleep.

We are captured in the snare of

unknown vapors.

Feet move. Hands reach. We

respond with half words to voices

at the backdoor of our thoughts.

We twitch at sounds from within

while running someplace.

The past speaks. Faces forgotten

say hello. We whisper names.

Songs wander from open car windows.

Storms drench as we seek shelter.


….we awake, wondering for a moment

where we are.



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