notes reach out as a net between us connecting
the space between us
to us
a tight voice spins my sleep,
sews together a dream and my eyelids,
black notes, a crescendo, crease
out of my closed eyes
during the darkness of my slumber
these notes bring me to you,
are a hand reaching out to your face
soft hairy, a touch lights the cavern
where my compass led me
and the baton lifts up
my eyes don't open
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
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