Waking Up Next to You
A giant saturn inside of me rotates
and there is a tournament of heart
In the morning I was listening
to the birds whistling to each other.
The sky marbled into another dawn.
I want to go back to sleep They made
on the kylix a miniature massacre in
black and how many lifetimes later
they are still fighting
but the light through these broken
blinds is ragged on my bed.
Hermitages in the dark are bits of haven,
the men slept easy for once, without nightmares
they sold their souls for the world
so that they may have chances to get them back
I remember the dream clearly though
I told myself to forget it: our dreamselves
can be so much ourselves that they look foreign
in ourselves, in our landscapes, our unknowns;
they can do what we could never, yet they always
feel as we could feel and we have to watch them, hurting,
until we wake. Then we will be hurting.
But I am here now and when I love,
it is simpler than what I love.
It may be myself wanting to be simpler
More mornings to come
or just wanting us to be simpler to each other.
Kyle Kaczmarick lives in Houston, where he spends time with loved ones while pursuing writing and music.