Monday, April 14, 2008


your name stays with me
I am a suitcase of dreams

night is for hunting sleepers
it depends on dreams
as a day is a long dream

eyes see what they are thinking about
nightmares rise with the sun

your name has no words in it
is a sigh uttered in sleep
where arms flinch empty

I am insubstantial
I float through you

an unanswered question
I have dreamed myself
and you dreamed me

those lost forms float
through each other

never meeting
hands have no meaning

I can touch myself
only when the dream
becomes bright and wistful

intense and strangely sad
I can feel us

me having a body and a life
and then it goes pale
like a thief

prisoner of the future
and the past

a ghost that still knows
forty yeas of gray
cannot take one satin night away


Gerald Galindez said...

this is really nice bob...
you've made good use of night elements and dark..

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks Gerald! I'm glad you enjoyed this.

ozymandiaz said...

spunds like quite the memorable moment (obviously). Wonderful work.

paisley said...

absolutely evocative.. what a lucky woman this judy to have so indelibly marked your soul.....

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Ozy! A summer night and day in Rome over forty years ago and it still turns me into some kind of a ghost. Glad you liked this, my friend.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi sweet Paisley! She was wonderful but I was the lucky one really. Thanks for that great comment, sweet lady.

Churu Churu said...

I enjoyed reading it.

Russell Ragsdale said...

Thanks churu churu! I appreciate your nice comment. I enjoyed reading a story on your blog as well. You are welcome here anytime, of course.

Pris said...

I like this!

Russell Ragsdale said...

Hi Pris! I'm glad this tickled your fancy. Thanks for leaving a comment, I always love to hear what you have to say.