A Poem A Day, Poem #6

the remembering is a touch that falls
on me so dizzying like a blood swirling
down my brain to my bones for a warm
birth of memory waking from simply
unconscious stupidity to those worlds
i fly though in the dreams where my
fingers slide down your hair and the air
is always good for breathing little parades
where all those new kisses march across
your body like the numbing of the mind
might stomp a song that sounds loud enough
to keep the outside light from poking an awakening
hole into this ghost where our bodies float across
old waters and everywhere just happens to be wherever
you are and everything is alive and dancing to the
melody that climbs the skies of our whispering rhythm