Someone I once knew Said that people from the 1800s Were “simpler” Implying they were stupid That they didn’t have the machines That we do now For someone’s benefit When they request a static solution To a moving problem And cry when tragedy strikes And weep not from sadness But from the feeling That a machine encounters When it short circuits That immortal flesh is rotting A nurse from the 1800s Dreams from another plane Of Men and Women Who revel in their life Knowing that Death is approaching
Filling the last pageOf a book I never expected toLast this longThe rain falls outsideOn to stone and weedsThe pool cover glistensLike a friendly frogThe trees laugh and singTheir leaves committing gentle suicideLike that Monty Python sketchAnd all the while the coffeeMaintains its steamEmanating from the brimI don’t remember whatI dreamed last nightAnd though I …
Our feet touchAnd that familiar spark returnsThe one that occuredWhen our eyes met9 years agoIn that dark, circular roomWhere only we existedWhere pain became peripheralWhere a foundation emergedFrom nothing and no one
Dreams From Another Plane
Someone I once knew
Said that people from the 1800s
Were “simpler”
Implying they were stupid
That they didn’t have the machines
That we do now
For someone’s benefit
When they request a static solution
To a moving problem
And cry when tragedy strikes
And weep not from sadness
But from the feeling
That a machine encounters
When it short circuits
That immortal flesh is rotting
A nurse from the 1800s
Dreams from another plane
Of Men and Women
Who revel in their life
Knowing that
Death is approaching
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