Memory left drowning
betwixt and beyond
floating discarded
on yesterday’s pond
The future is calling
in voices distressed
reservoirs draining
tomorrow beset
The bridge crossing over
these waters is rough
its toll but the present
time never enough
The turnstile upon you,
its arm is still down
the cost what you’re leaving
its promise unfound
But once set in motion,
there’s no turning back
allusion receding
with blood in its tracks
All hail to the moment,
the instant supreme
whose motion internal
—all else but a dream
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)