here, in dreams

in sentimental dreams I return
to levitate down haight street
with chrysanthemum’s in my hair
where a beggar once told me
“there’s no gravity in memories
there’s no actual point in lucidity”
so I just surrender to the skies
behind my kaleidoscope eyes
here, where my mind’s time machine
is powered by polaroid’s
flipping frantically
as they develop themselves
chemical canvases flashing
like exhausted stars
here, the undamaged times
where I bask in the familiar scent
of sandalwood and vintage denim
waltzing across the victorian facades
here, I radiate like the muted sunlight
bleeding through the frosted glass
of the conservatory
here, I ask myself
“whatever shall I do today?”
and the answer is always

a. duncan, 2018


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Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus || Love is rich with both honey and venom

30 thoughts on “here, in dreams

      1. Haha. Yes, former smoker myself. I used to have a much higher pitch in my teens, was a soprano in choir. The cheap menthols stole those beautiful notes away. But it’s okay. We are a collection of changes and consequences, right?


      2. Yeah, sadly me too. I empathize with your experience. I know it had to be painful to climb out of that hole. Because, well, I had to, too. Alcohol is my greatest enemy, which is both ridiculous and challenging at the same time. Something perfectly legal and available – literally everywhere. But it changes me into a very, very evil person, even though it’s considered so casual and fun.


      3. Can you imagine if everytime you went to the grocery store… there were aisles of heroin. Each time you go out to eat there’s heroin on the menu. It’s so fucking weird to me.


      4. Absolutely. Mine is Also do you have IG or Facebook? I’m so terrible at finding time to sit down and compose an actual email. That time is usually committed to poetry. So it would be nice if we could chat on one of those platforms too in lieu of busier times.


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