I captured and trapped, then plundered his words...

I asked him what he thought about...
Expanding Circles

he said,
they don't stick around for long enough...
and padded squares unravel
from the quadrant's angry angles.
We have no choice but to steal
the memories and dreams of others;
they're the quilt that keeps
our souls warm at night.

A noontime nap can help.
It is a dose of dozing
and dreams are fireworks:
Brilliant powerful ubiquitous images
and then they are gone
Quick glimpses remain:
A Phosphenes behind our eyelids -
outlines like a bright flashlight
that momentarily blinds.

We accompany the moon's rays
by following her beams' path
as a guide -
a reflection of reality
trapped in the psyche
of the past.

Our hopes, ambitions, fears,
desires and needs...
These are all things like beams
They are seen and they are there
but to say the word
is like shouting a cloud
into cold air.

These puffs of nothing
and everything
at once
terrify and electrify us
They are the very DNA
of our non-physical existence

If we could deduce a system
to capture...
to wrap it up in a blanket of...
a quilt...
or maybe we're always making quilts
when what we need to be making
is bed sheets.

Layers to lay down on
and wash when dirty.