Sleeping face, I came to you in a dream,
in the form of words, in the shape
of waves crashing through the windows.

The sand remains undisturbed, a pyramid
behind your placid brow where we lie
and make a knot like Gordias’.

What eyes do I gaze into unblinking lights
deliberate and inconsolable to be
deceit to be penitence to be

To be comprehensible to be unsure to be
Fibonacci numbers to be
square roots on ink and paper lines.

Yes, there is something it is like to be
me without you to be nerve endings
and clock hands tracing into the small of your back

So between believing without knowing
and knowing without believing
I choose the latter, I am sure will come around.


~ by O'Brien on October 3, 2009.

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