but I felt nothing.
I heard the harp of the New Albion,
its detuned chorale sweeping through the hills,
while a swarm of flies gathered in the sunlight nearby,
while a swarm of flies gathered in the sunlight nearby,
ushering in a new day –
but I do not feel any differently now.
A black tapestry still hangs on the wall,
outside the doorway
where our first visitor came,
only to be sent away quickly,
before you were awakened.
A silken thread floating in the wind,
undulates,
snakelike,
before my eyes
and I realize that I can finally see
every color that can be reflected through air,
in prismatic waves all around me.
Perhaps I am not blind after all,
but only suspected of being so in a dream.
Unpublished Poems
May 2012
