Decanting on the shores of sleep,
Where dreaming estuaries will weep,
Perilous cliff-top climbs are steep,
Sounds across a border seep.

I found a strange sensation brew,
Stranger than the crossing’s crew,
A second breathing bridged the two:
Inhale once, exhaling due.

Inveigling spirit, a bellow between
What is dreamt and what is seen,
Organist pedalling lungs for a dean,
Cathedrals where I have not been.

Apparitions line the coasts
To sing in chorus for their hosts
And keep witheld communion ghosts,
My bark is tethered to their posts.

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