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.]