Hypnic Jerk

as i lay me down to sleep
let be the won wars and lost causes of the day
to leap into strange worlds

worlds where emotions glow like second suns
worlds where eyes see behind them
worlds where truth dives off tongues
like alphabetic letters into the deep end of endless pools
onto swingsets that sway up to the moon
floating above writers clacking at desks in eerie woods
swimming birds and flying fish

and in some true ways
something more sensical than this real real world

i find balance in dreams
the cosmic butter for my charred toast
i find serenity in the letgo
the fallout of power
the disappearance of clocks that tick
sixty seconds in a minute

in dreams
i can be an old man at last
sitting on a rocking chair on the rings of saturn
reading hemingway and drinking irish coffee
and in dreams i can do this forever
and not be late for tea

in dreams
i can find love without politics
my skin absorbed into the wallpaper
and i so unmistakably part of the foundation of the house
babbling on less about oneness and more about allness

it’s all too much in dreams
and that’s why sometimes we keep it there
like a hidden drawer of a music box

it’s all too much in dreams
where the news channel flickers and spins
and it’s november 21st, 1963 forever

in dreams
where gunshots exist like capguns
and cops and robbers ends for almuerzo
a feast of childhood friends

in dreams
where i can finally be a child again
where it takes so much less business to be a child
where i close my eyes and i’m a child
no more business to keep us busy
in dreams where we all can be a child

in allness
in solidarity
in surreal shopless malls
in purity
in strangeness
in death but never ultimate
in always ultimate and fleeting
in unexplored chambers of the dark night of the soul
in love unthought of
in manifesto! in epiphany! in orderless government!
in one billion goofy goddesses and gods
in chains
in freedom
in memory

in deep deep memory
in resonance from all directions of time and space
in dreams

in daring

as i lay me down to sleep
i find myself jolted by a hypnic jerk
a kind of shock
an electric bolt
feels like falling
in that moment just before
you enter the womb of dreams
over and over
a jolt
a shock
a pain
a pain that comes in dark electric waves
over and over
each time i try to enter these dreams

and i tell everyone i meet about this hypnic jerk
about this something
keeping me from dreams
keeping me from half of myself
and everyone says it’s okay
that it’s okay
that it’s okay

and it’s not okay

because in dreams
i am my best spirit
and how now am i to pull that form
that form which i cannot reach
into the poetry of this ticking life?
Support me on Patreon.

Advertisements

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s