the space between waking and sleep

Channeling
spirits out
of nothing, chaos
opening
as the veil disintegrates
and ghosts fly, falling
through voices,
transient,
fabricated by
orchestras
of dust, scattered and restrained
by webs of dreamlight,
by the sting
of desire
receding into
amnesia,
inaccessible without
hallucination.
The hand is
empty, the
eye’s mirror reflects
a poem
without words.    Caught in a lens
without light.    Reversed.