Treasure Island

Ben Paynter

(Midwest)

Surface, our


We want our knowledge
of grass to be
sun bathed, sea
green and soft,
an earthen blanket
to carpet
our dreams.

the thousand blades
deadening sounds
of footfalls filled
with dew and moon
glow, all painted
over fields.

we want the ground
beneath the grass
to be white sand
from some deep
dreamed place we
thought of as
a child.

what of the
worms and words
living deep,
winding days away
without a drop
of light. or
of the roots
the tangled masses
working deep
in solitude.

the waking up
feeling of
rubbing eyes
feeling face,
hands, feet
touching the chest
making sure
the heart's in there
and beating on
in darkness.

Submitted: Thursday, September 26, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 27, 2013

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