A PEELING

She says if you could only
peel back the photograph, you could
read the entire story that lies beneath.
Is deeper than the image below which
it lies trapped, and the wider, imbued with a meeting
the image could not capture, just as,
she says frowning, there are no words
for parts of the picture, a symbiosis
that we of unitary senses cannot unite.
This one, pointing to a crucifix, shows him
where he ought to be, the pain, his pain
apparent, but so much deeper than
any image or sculptors hand can fashion.
Undeserved pain, not by sacrileges, by rebellion
but he would understand it, he would
revel in it, for he was the greatest rebel
and he would easily peel back the picture
in step wholly into the story beneath.

THE BEAUTY OF DREAMS

The beauty of dreams
is the plasticity of the mind
when it passes the margin into sleep.
As the new reality takes hold
places and people are allowed
to morph, the subconscious
becomes sculptor, creating
what never was from what is,
writing the script, editing it,
and all in real-time, the last act
to be completed before the conscious
reality takes back the stage
and much of what has transpired
is cast into the corner of the mind,
to be later edited
in the harsh light of day.