Sootgarden

Today’s dream:


Beneath the amber looms, the kettle sings
Through mossy vaults, the lacquered railway rings

The baker folds blue pollen into bread
While furnace lilies nod their molten heads

The turtle monks preserve the tides in brass
And blackened vinegar anoints the mass

The miners carve soft scripture into chalk
At dawn, their daughters pace the cobalt walk

No monarch ever rules the halls of slate
The clocks are fed with cedar smoke and weight

At dusk, the marble dairies softly steam
While iron swans drift slowly through the gleam

And though the alleys bloom with soot and grime
Each window keeps its faithful pots of thyme

The stairways curl through catacombs of spice
Where blind cartographers engrave on ice

Young chimney keepers harvest velvet rain
And boil dark peaches down with clove and cane

The harbor bells are cast from salted bone
Yet no one in this quiet world walks alone