I And You

we dreamed riddles
but gently,
and waking,
thinking ourselves
true, breathing
ourselves sole,
we reflected on
our strange
psychosis—you
are resident,
drift dormant
on sleep’s
uncharted seas,
in the pages
of our rigorous
screenplay,
but sometimes
without leave
you ascend into
objectivity, and
peer through
matter’s mystery
at what we forgot:
the other places
beneath which we
shift and sing (our
own strange play),
but always we wake
to this other dream,
I and you, our hand
together always is
the surrounding fire,
always the
smoke-smelling bouquet,
always the
night’s driving rain.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

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