From dreams

from dreams the lot is lost
in cast out prisms which beckon
naught the glory of hue
from crimson blood
flooding indigo blue

prisms beckon instead
those puzzled memoirs lurking
in drowned chasms of the head
drowned victims released
after arising from the bed

the release of bloated
corpses who have been
thrown down endless stairwells
the release of rare hells
that hunger with brimming bellies

and in the letting go
of ravaged moments,
times which have been
over savored to tastelessness
their cocoons are severed
for silk on tiny legs to fly

to fly through raining
sunlight and the snuffed out
bonfires of words