Teliost Language Services

A heart beats regularly.
Poet half asleep in bed,
Dreams fading like a
Watercolor canvas in rain,
Wonders whether to sleep
Or to emerge as if dreaming
Into the night anew, wandering
Beyond the door into the city,
As if into a forest, and the night
Is young. There are bears and foxes,
Fireflies and deep-sea anglers about
Here and now one can see them all, and
Perhaps, remembering Questions of Travel,
Yes, Elizabeth, perhaps Pascal was right,
And Yes, there are too many waterfalls,
And the day is coming, a sunrise so full,
Light cascading and a to do list weighing,
And no gravity is felt here or there, just treading
Space water, psycho water, time water, which is
A current encountering a lull, and there are forks,
Shocking ones imagined, and all these fish swimming
Into all these might become the here now dreaming
In the world or perhaps still contained deeply within
The mind of a poet in a bed in a room in a city.