John Dmitri Kessler

HERE I AM, SINKING INTO A CARPET OF COOL GRASS,
WHITE FLOWERS DANCE LIKE EARTH-BOUND ANGELS
AS THEY NOD SLOWLY ABOVE MY HEAVY EYES.
THE WIND IS A RUSH IN THE TREETOPS ABOVE
AND MY LAZY BONES EASE INTO THE SOFTNESS BELOW.
TINY PIXI-LIKE FLOWERS POP UP BESIDE ME
AND A GUSH OF COLD YELLOW FOAM LETS ME SEE GNOMES
IS THERE SOMETHING HERE JUST BEYOND REASON?
IS IT THE DREAM I SWORE NOT TO FORGET?
I AM I, WHICH IS MYSELF.
YOU ARE YOURSELF, AND I DO NOT KNOW
WHY MY DEAR OBLIVION CAUSES SUCH ANGER.
I OWN A WISH WITHIN A GARDEN
WHERE SPIDERWEBS DRIP WITH MORNING DEW.
TRANSLUCENT SPIDERS SHIMMERED IN SUNLIGHT.
THE TENDER CURL OF A GRASS BLADE
SURROUNDS MY TOE LIKE A LOVE UNKNOWN.
THE WHITE NICOTIANA TRUMPETS UTTER DEEP MELODIES
TO OLFACTORY SENSES WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN.
I AM A BUNDLE OF NERVES THAT EXPLORE A STRANGE WORLD
I AM THE NOD THAT ENDS A LONG DAY.
SO BITTER IN SORROW I SEEK LONG COMFORT.
LOST IN MY VIEWS, I EMBRACE DEAR OBLIVION.
I WOULDN'T CALL IT A DREAM COME TRUE,
BUT IT'S BETTER THAN BEING SCALPED BY REALITY.
AH-JEAH!