Asleep with Dreams (you can change the title...)

No sleep could be more profound
than a sleep of nothingness
a sleep of blank sheets
of empty hands resting
on empty pillows
and empty sets of mattresses –
all empty,
all waiting;
a vaccum of expected heavens.

A deliberate exchange,
a gradual closing
of eyes opened
and of hands supine
and of lips parted.

The gates of blurred images
jolts with its locks;
and on the entrance,
a river of beds
where I may sleep,
and wake
to a tree that roots on yellow flour –
eaten,
swallowed by a stranger’s mouth
with strange teeth
bared,
suddenly oranged fom the yellow pulp.
A sudden twitch

And a cat leaps out
coiled around its own paws,
the head alternating from a furry circle
to a slimy line –
the face of a hissing snake.

A deliberate birth,
a gradual waking
of words asleep
and images throbbing
from worlds I yet have to open.