the very physical act of dreaming

the very physical act of dreaming
has given me pause
in an ocean of turbulence
foaming brittle wings
the way a storm unites the day-
with how you break it.
all the long tall reeds of your witherspoons
drizzled in abandon's proximity
like a tool for a crystalline Sisyphus
pumping up a hill of Beings
doing what flowers are too shy
to pollen.