Tag: stephen mead

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And Dreams of Seas – Stephen Mead

Another poem of Stephen’s that we took interest in, “And Dreams of Seas” felt real, raw, and visceral to us. We enjoyed it, as well as “Sighs,” and we hope you will too.

And Dreams of Seas

If the food stayed down

(& it did)

If the hands found each other

& not blindly

or just through letters,

that piercing paper touch

(& they did)

If we were soluble, the flesh

transparent, & could merge

in a flow where nobody 

drowned

or at least not alone

(& we might have)

If your voice, face

was suddenly inside mine

& sky-lit eyes looked out brighter,

an ocean in the all-over-dark

(& we almost)

If I were not sad, could feel

joy even in your leaving

without angry idols, fearful

obsession of the fact

fact of your sickness

(& I am)

or death

(am not)

then the last vast wave

would not want oblivion

(& we cannot)

only a sort of truth,

nearly clear

(& we don’t)

in this surge,

the real dream

which does not stop

—

Stephen Mead is an Outsider multi-media artist and writer. Since the 1990s he’s been grateful to many editors for publishing his work in print zines and eventually online. He is also grateful to have managed to keep various day jobs for the Health Insurance. Currently he is resident artist/curator for The Chroma Museum, artistic renderings of LGBTQI historical figures, organizations, and allies predominantly before Stonewall: https://thestephenmeadchromamuseum.weebly.com/.

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Sighs – Stephen Mead

Sighs

To covet, sighs,

a covenant between spirit & flesh.

Eyes come

eternally mortal to that rhythm:

Pelvic, pubic, the moan emissions

between your eyes above mine

as sex & sensuality meld us to one fluid,

bone marrow, the extremis…

You know that knowledge is terrible,

death’s phantom a phoenix to the fusion

of our shadows & the winged brilliance

where, life to life, pulses feed sickness or DNA.

Love, feed the thirst, the hunger desire

decides on. Choose passion as breath & we

wave in the ebb, the flow of that domain…

Here, first eddy, flushed then waxen

tallow, flame to wick.

Come, come again, I’ll hide no sighs,

being charcoal to paper 

rubbing an imprint.

—

Stephen Mead is an Outsider multi-media artist and writer. Since the 1990s he’s been grateful to many editors for publishing his work in print zines and eventually online. He is also grateful to have managed to keep various day jobs for the Health Insurance. Currently he is resident artist/curator for The Chroma Museum, artistic renderings of LGBTQI historical figures, organizations, and allies predominantly before Stonewall: https://thestephenmeadchromamuseum.weebly.com/.