a poem in my pocket

My response to poetics by Anthony at dVerse on DMT, or Dimethyltryptamine:

“It’s the most common drug, and also the rarest; our brain secretes the chemical when we go to sleep, and that is what causes us to dream.”

I had recurring nightmares as a child…now most of my bad “mind trips” occur while awake  😉

________

 

cold fear feet

freeze to ground

as hot horde of

mad swordsmen

on war horses

pursue offender

to cliff’s edge

high above surf

pummeling sharp

rocks below;

soft silt crumbles

victim tumbles

falling backwards,

feels salty spray

just before the

shattering

impact—

waking, shaking,

wet with sweat

supine on floor.

 

palpable dark:

glowing eyes,

bristling hairs,

animal breath

on face faking

sleep, flash of

canine teeth

snapping for

exposed jugular;

transform into

one of the pack,

running in the night

howling at the moon

which looms fuller

with body’s lift-off,

swift upward rush

as human rocket

orbits past bright

lunar craters

to free-fall thru

galaxies of stars.

 

lying in bed

wide-eyed and

listening to cellar

door creaking open,

footsteps plodding

deliberately up

basement stairs,

slowly through house and then

another door moans;

heavy footsteps louder

now on stairway

leading to this

attic bedroom—

awaken to sound of

own heart pounding,

lying motionless

wondering if…

it’s waiting.

 

epilogue:

“But I don’t dream!” you say to me.

No dreams at night

may be lack of DMT,

No dreams by day

must be need of poetry!