Almost hitting snooze
coming into the world
of cracked harmonics:
radiator clank
above an ocean of automobiles
atop the inner ear's symphony.
morning is a half-lipped smile
broadcasting content resignation,
half-lidded eyes threatening
to fall back through hot springs
into roiling currents of dream.
land of impossible harmonics,
hills are voices, without temperature;
vehicles are silent, sleepless.
the whole body of dream-thought
is an exuberant inner symphony
that never finishes playing.
Notes
Bit of a short contemplation, here, of the discordant physical world as it compares to the harmonic world of dream. Actually conceived of/wrote most of the lines while laying in bed meditating, something I'd like to practice more (writing mentally before penning physically.) Also, for this piece it felt somehow right to use no capital letters, which I've never done before. Underlying this poem is the fascination I feel knowing that with perfect vision, this whole reality is beautiful geometries of space and sound, which, however, to the sense organs come off as a wide variety of consonance and dissonance.
Writing by
4/17/18
.
Photographs by
excub
.1 — "Desurmont Floor"
2 — "Perfect Circle"
3 — "The Radiator"
4 — "Green Mills"
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