Narrow and Expansive

In the haunting narrowness
Of that place
Is a reservoir of peace
I want to float into
And lose all the noise
That which makes my body ache
And my pupils dilate

To see only
What’s right
In front of my eyes
Lose my mind to my senses
All other places
Thoughts and feelings

It’s selfishness
And it’s selflessness
Others all gone
And self all gone
Just the purity
Of the narrowness


Grinding One’s Teeth in a Dream

Falling to a state
of chalk, running existence
over anything
which might just create
a beyond
to this not-quite reality,

this echoing chamber
in which washing one’s hands
of all thoughts,
and this chalk
-like existence,
this echoing chamber,
is longed for.

Why like the chalk on my hands
do they speak
in the echoes and feelings,
uncomfortable static,
like grinding one’s teeth
in a dream.

But existence is real
for some,
so they say,
but how do they reach that reality.
How do they reach what is real
to get rid
of the chalk
and dim echoes.