Thursday, March 5, 2009


This poem is about Dawn, as the name implies. I imagined myself traveling the world round with the Sun, always in morning, never in darkness, never truely in day.


Sit down my dear passenger,
- speak to me Oh Morning,
for as desperate the hours
of fluid darkness
spilling into my bones,
there exists in me a flaming furnace
that rages without rest,
without stopping,
without reprieve!
For all dreams
and expectations you have
rest in me
and my light.

So shore up your sleepy eyes;
accompany me Oh Morning
around and spinning
ever drifting into the world awakening.

Do not fear the smoky darkness
burning in my stead.
Out from it you are,
a new day
ever on the shores of crashing waves,
frothy clouds,
and sand-abundant shadow
of tree,
of mountain,
of city.
And the colors of our tryst
blooming, cursing, loving
they are my dear passenger
days fleeting…