osmosis living

By sleeping with it under my pillow
I can absorb my life through osmosis.

Words are but frail shadows
cast on a blank-parchment imagination–
stones cast down from dragon’s heights,
talons fiercely tearing at this flesh.

I want to observe without interaction
and interact without being observed.

This poem is bubbling, boiling,
cooking in a pot at the back of your brain–
heavy, with nothing to feed the hawk’s-eye
but a subtle glance into unknown corridors.

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