Wednesday, May 12, 2010


The quality of sleep during thunderstorms,

what with the wind and rain

howling and pounding away

at the house (if not the very foundations

of the earth, itself) always seems

to free the sleeper to sink

deeper and deeper down

to those primal subterranean layers

of semi-consciousness where sleep

is more like a ghostly oceanic underworld

and dreams are luminescent fish

skulking about among the weeds

and abandoned machines and whatever

other random little trinkets and things

that filter their way down there from the surface world,

down and down through the hundreds

and thousands of pounds per cubic inch.

And, sometimes, you suddenly come awake

down there inside the belly of a dream,

just lilting along on whatever

under-current that comes sliding by.

And, though you’ve become slightly

more self-aware (of a few of your
other selves) down there in the briny,
dreamy deep-down,

you do not drown.

-Jason Ryberg, 2010

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