Poem XVIII: Dazed

The child


I dreamed of an elevator
made of wooden walls
The sky was pink
Is this me counting the layers of time?
I saw my brother and the water was crystalline
A dreamlike tale
My hands are full of spikes
From the cactuses in the garden
It ain’t funny when you think of the symbolic
Caring for something that hurts you without knowing
The music is coming from an empty apartment
A lonesome celebration
Beautifully dazed
I miss something
…but I don’t know where I left it