Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Christopher Soden: Days of Dreaming

suppose the life you swallowed was not

yours but moonlight


gone sour a glass key you needed

to secure suppose the dead were not


the strychnine you imagined but crooned

as you chewed upon rough bread


and gruyere solemn and relaxed

suppose you found an entire afternoon


to loll naked upon your bed

smoking clove and reflecting


on burroughs and baudelaire

suppose every bruise


on your shoulders sprouted

blue feathers and grief


was a bridge to rich infinite

slumber suppose the beckoning


swim was a terrified prayer

so luminous and light you felt god


brimming from your ears

Copyright 2017 Christopher Soden


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This entry was posted on June 16, 2017 by in Poetry and tagged , .

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