Collectively, our dreams form the Dream of the World
interpolations from incomplete sensory information
dragging our feet through a graceless exposition
only functioning at all through an incomplete common agreement
How do you explain colour to someone blind from birth?
Could she be a Shaman? Or another fleeting irritant?
what we call love befuddles these dimensions
One day we shall die. But all the other days we shall be alive
All moments are always happening: time is of no consequence
Scribe my enervated back with a switch of burning sage
What energy it takes to construct another rapscallion ritual -
we must find places where we can find each other.
Yet simulacra abound, invariably symptoms of the same disease
Is it impossible or merely inadvisable to unravel our illusions?
What does it mean to dream that you cannot awake
