i have been dreaming

11:42 PM Posted by James Owens




When You Disguised Yourself as Munch’s Madonna

I dreamed you were dreaming of me.
Have I truly been myself on any other night?

If you dream of me
I don’t shatter like glass --

if you dream of me
I don’t have to break

like a mirror thrown against a stone wall.

I am deep if you look into me
in the shiny mirror you carry

behind your shadowy breasts --
I am a clean cold spring in the forest

where deer and foxes drink
and birdsong drifts like mist

and the images of birds skim the sky,
if you trail your dreaming fingers through me.

14 comments:

Sorlil said...

Another very beautiful poem!! "if you trail your dreaming fingers through me" - I love this.

James Owens said...

Roxana: :-)))

James Owens said...

Sorlil: I'm always happy to see you here. You have a reader's instinct that goes right to the heart of a poem....

LadyFi said...

A dreamy poem.. love the way you weave dreams and nature together.

Roxana said...

când m-am deghizat ca Madonna lui Munch


am visat că mă visai
eram dintr-odată plină
de căprioare şi vulpi
nu te apropia,
ţi-am strigat peste umăr,
râzând, dar braţele mele
se mişcau deja prin somnul
de care refuzai să te lepezi
prea târziu, ai spus,
nu vezi, pe spinarea mea
arcuită a primăvară
ghearele lor s-au răsucit,
căutându-mi sângele mut.

S. Etole said...

I keep returning to this ... some dreams are that good

chrome3d said...

She must have been a real revelation to be like her.

Dominika said...

very nice

James Owens said...

LadyFi: There are days when I am not sure where the dreams end and everything else begins....

James Owens said...

Roxana: How can I say anything? I am speechless before this:

When I Disguised Myself as Munch's Madonna

I dreamed that you were dreaming of me
I was at once full
of deer and foxes
don’t come near
I cried to you over my shoulder,
laughing, but my arms
were already moving through sleep
that you refused to disavow
too late, you said
don’t you see, on my back
arched into spring,
their claws have twisted
seeking my mute blood.

James Owens said...

Susan: Yes, dreaming of her reminds me of something Caliban says in The Tempest, after he had such a dream that he "waked, and cried to sleep again."

James Owens said...

Chrome: A revelation :-) ... an invitation into the real world....

James Owens said...

Dominika: Thank you for being here :-)