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Motes Never Settle

Mike Bell
Mike Bell
Mar 19 · 1 min read

Roll [once more] into sleep’s spindles
& those coils of dreams — of rapid eye
movement — of phases of oat moon in
your turned back eyes — roll with every
fade-in & out of your dreamt phantom
[ let sleep be your muted counsel now I
am not asked]/ Pull that drag of duvet
back from my vacated space — as your
body rubs on my flaked flaws — risings/
See those particles after bed-making?
I will float high over your future lovers
& enter their sleep & be a disturbance/
I’ll sprinkle a truth [motes never settle]

Originally published at on March 19, 2020.

Mike Bell

Written by

Mike Bell

Since Nov ’15 I’ve been writing at least one poem a day. Some have been published & made money. By poem #10,000, I will be 85 yrs old & have beaten dementia.

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