Dreaming in Tongues

by Jim Dunn

In no uncertain words
I am three
The descending dove and the flame
Only in the two
Do I become
the third

The mother of all ships
Is the following sea

Touched by flame or finger
Or white bird’s wings
The flood of fantastic words
Twitching spouters
Spewing ancient chatter
On carpeted dreams

In two, I am three
In every, I am each

One

Dream in delicious animation

Tongue and cheek to the moon
Pressed against the snow

To show the hollow glow

Fingers twitch in somnambulant surprise
Electric currents running towards the night

Sleep is a silent language dreams punctuate

A white silence with teeth
And a clucking tongue

Stuttering prophecies
arrive in twisted pistons of
Spewed words not of this world

An ancient language rolling on
Waves of heavy breath

nocturnal oceans of blue wreaths
internal circle of soul’s halo
searching for the divine in the darkness