swagger of hope

i dreamt

i dreamt myself into being
at the aperture of solitary sanguinity
it was somewhere near the sun
for i felt the furnace heat

the cold tried to muscle through
but it was kept at bay
in darkness

i dreamt myself into a foray of nucleotides
so base in the compound of life
compacted, refracted, primordial
i felt the furnace heat

death
in its infinite darkness
was away at hermitage

i dreamt myself into a swagger of hope
the heat and the hate sloughed away
a second skin
barren husk

i hissed at the universe—
sir,
i exist!

i dreamt
that i dreamt
at the bottom
of a dream

What I’m Reading:

“Everyone tells everybody else to write on water if he wants a durable medium. I hired a durable medium once and got to talk to everyone of Karl Marx’s imitations of Attila the Hun.”

— John McKernan / “Dear Y.”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
This entry was posted in Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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 )

Connecting to %s