February 18th
Asleep in green water drifting past my reservation’s shore,
dream river carries me over history’s broken door.
Temporal lobes, grey stones, rolls of creativity flow
into a boundless reservoir.
Fear’s forgotten, how still I am.
If not careful here, I’ll forget myself, immersed.
Or, will I float into ancestral stars?
Asleep in green water drifting past my reservation’s shore,
dream river carries me over history’s broken door.
Temporal lobes, grey stones, rolls of creativity flow
into a boundless reservoir.
Fear’s forgotten, how still I am.
If not careful here, I’ll forget myself, immersed.
Or, will I float into ancestral stars?