Senseless Dream

One night I slip and fall inside a dream:

Here people sigh, they groan, they shake the trees,

but branches never swing and nothing falls.

Until at last I hear a throbbing scream,

then stars begin to drop like fruits. The breeze 

dissolves, the blood congeals, and roar the squalls.

And then I notice how the senseless lights

are rolling into seas, with grace and ease,

but stay afloat, illuming sleeping dolls

that dream this dream their lonely endless nights—

morn' calls!

Bless Me

Oh bless me Father (muttered I) 
for I have sinned, for I have sinned, 
for I have roved against the wind, 
and over lands that house the hands
that—blithe—unfold beneath my feet.
The branching hands, with love imbued,
thus reaching out they've made me food.

Ungrateful yes, but blind I'm not,
for I have known the sun, the lands, 
the trees that fruit, and blooming shoots,
the taste of figs (I've not forgot),
the peach has long perfumed my hands,
the grapes and dates, angelic fruits.

I've seen the moonbow over falls;
the snowfall gather over roofs;
about the coast, descent of gulls;
on grassy plains, the dance of manes,
I've heard the tune of trotting hooves.    

Yet I have stepped on aging leaves, 
and drank atop their withered roots,
I took and took but please believe
my heart is not so black as soot,

Now here tonight I'm sober, weak,
this conscious-guilted rueful thief
inhales the scent of grass with grief.

I beg you father now once more 
to bless this worthless selfish soul:

For I can not—Oh I can not!