H
e a r t S o n s & H
e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s b e r g
N
a p a l m H e a l t h S p a :
R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i
v e s E d i t i
o n
THOMAS R. PETERS, Jr.
LXXXI
Yes,
I’m alone, unable to dream
my dream of love, money & the days I
abhor
The
night comes sober with transparent guests
that make me wish I was home in my own bed
The
end of love, I miss in dreams
irritates me like a flood of janitors
&
keeps me awake like a month of sobriety
Alone
with you, I could sleep through the sun & moon
Your
hands are small & delicate
&
you’re as smooth as the tango
as we wait, alas, the end
Is
a sign the sea will level the earth
the door, the window, the vent to your
destiny
It
is no sin, to sin, alone in dreams
[Originally published in NHS 1997, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs97/index.html#3.]