This
Phillip Whitman Elvrum
11. THIS
I tear in dreams
across the north sea
or
I travel mentally wild
through all million thoughts
the mind sings.
No.
Only THIS
and from each this
I crawl entangled
into
this.
Pulled out through window
I blink and I'm gone again.
Leaping beyond this
while still alive.
This candle glowing.
Shrieking across the dark sky.
I see you through the snow
and I'm gone.
Into the spring,
all in my mind.
Back to this
specific spot
in the river
in spring thaw.
With all dreams burning off,
as if lightning has struck
here,
I hold
this.
