The Quiet Dark

author’s note:

A decades of life reduced to a few lines.


THE QUIET DARK

As a fledgling adult, I preferred the cacophony:

I thrilled to feel the energy
of the loud proud mishmash of noise
roiling in the public square.

But soon the commotion infested my head
and I wasn’t able to hear
my thoughts and feelings clearly—
a problem indeed

when choices must be made.
I was struggling to decide
which way was the best way for me.

I was told:
listen to your intuition.
But when I tried
I soon discovered
just how obtuse I’d become
from being in the blare so long.

In search of what I’d lost
I then delved down into the quiet dark.

Deep within
I could feel what I truly felt
and see the trouble in my thoughts.

Then of course, I wanted to find
what was behind
those thoughts and feelings.
And so I continued to explore.

No, I didn’t always like what I found inside
but good or bad, the discoveries amazed me.

Antarctica has already been mapped.
So I’m probing this other strange continent.

However
I’m still obliged to participate
in the cacophony outside.
And since I must, I might as well
open myself fully to the experience:
I’ll grin as I squint into the blare’s bold wind
and let my monkey dance in the mad parade.

I can still enjoy the superficial noise—
I just need to remind myself:
the show is not the substance.

I can play as a child
without becoming infantile
as long as I stay connected
to the wise one I’ve found
below the surface—
in the recesses of the quiet dark.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
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© 2026, Michael R. Patton

Shopping in the Labyrinth

author’s note:

"Time is money."
        -- Anonymous


SHOPPING IN THE LABYRINTH

According to a recurrent dream
I'm traveling through a labyrinth

but unlike those described
in myths and legends
this passageway leads me
through the halls
of an average shopping mall

with countless bright stores
offering every sort of thing
except what I seek.

Not that I know
what that is--I only know
I haven't found it yet.

But I don't feel defeated--
I'm still eager to explore--to see
what waits next door down.

Maybe these dreams show how
I’m gathering information.
Even when I don’t buy what I see
I can find another piece of the puzzle
just by stopping to look

and if I collect enough pieces
I may be able to fill in the spaces--
I may see “the big picture”:
the grand design of this life.

A woman I met on a bus
told me she also shops
in her dreams...maybe
everyone does--maybe
we’re all trying to discover
the beautiful design in
what appears to be chaos.

In any case
this much is obvious:
we were made to shop.

The Truth of the Dream: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Returning to Earth

author’s note:

“I am a child in these hills.”
            -- Jackson Browne


RETURNING TO EARTH

When I see those clouds around the mountain peak
I feel inspired--I dream

of a life I can not live
until I’ve elevated myself
through slow steady climbing.
Up there: a life of peace.

But I dream too often--
I cloud my eyes
and as a result
sometimes trip
and hit
the ground--

sometimes hard.

Then as I lie there on my belly
putting head and body together
the dirt and stone and grass under me
begin to speak--silently saying:
welcome back.

Yes, I know them.
But I often forget to visit.
However, like a loving mother
they forgive the child for being foolish.
Home is any place
where I feel small and humble
yet secure.

I do need to dream.
However
I must keep at least one eye clear
and looking down
so I won’t trip and land hard--
down, so I’ll remember
to return softly to the earth
where I can feast and fortify
for the slow heavy climb.

Listening to Silence: poetry ebook
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

The Fable of the Woman Who Couldn't Stop Caring

author's note:

As I get to know myself better, I get to know everyone else better as well.


THE FABLE OF THE WOMAN WHO COULDN’T STOP CARING

Hoping to make her life easier
she decided to stop caring--stop
lying in bed late at night
asking, “What is the answer?”

Thus, our heroine embarked
on a life of leisure
and limited her mental pursuits
while repeating this mantra
to herself and others:
I just don’t care anymore.

And to the eye
she did indeed seem more relaxed
in the new somnolence of her days.

However...

in her dreams
she continued to search--

continued
to drive in darkness through heavy fog.

She still strained
to climb those stairs.

She still stared
into that tall shadow
looming on the wall.

In her dreams
she continued
to argue with him
even as his face
slowly became her face.

Knowing dreams don’t lie
she eventually stopped
pretending she didn’t care.

However
she no longer felt defeated--
after comparing her dreams with ours
she knew hope again:

she saw
though many don’t seem to care
the truth is
we’re all struggling to climb the stairs
through shadows and fog
sharing the way
with a menagerie of mirrors.

The Truth of the Dream: poetry ebook
dream steps blog
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

What the Dream Told Me about Flying Blindly

author's note:

I subscribe to the theory that a dream won’t tell you what you already know.


WHAT THE DREAM TOLD ME ABOUT FLYING BLINDLY

In the dream, I’m flying
but I feel so weak
because I can’t believe I can fly

and feel so scared:
I’m blinded by cloud--
any moment, I could slam
into the flat slab of a cliff.

Some claim dreams
are just nonsense.
But I know the feeling
in this dream to be true.

Yet I wonder:
why do I need a dream
to tell me to be cautious?--
after all, I already am.

And if the dream means
to convince me
I can do what I don’t believe I can,
it hasn’t.

No, I think
the dream came to say:
despite your fright
you can still enjoy this flight
--what a thrill it is!--
you can use that energy
to lighten the doubt
weighing on your wings.

© 2021, Michael R. Patton
The Truth of the Dream: poetry ebook

Spinning & Turning

author's note:

With regret, I cut these lines from the poem below:

"as any witch who sweeps at night
  would tell you:
  change often goes unnoticed."


SPINNING & TURNING

A year or so ago
I awoke from a dream
of a cock crowing on a rooftop--
silhouetted distinctly
by the pink-gold of a rising sun

which I believed symbolized
the arrival of a glorious new life
after decades of hard labor.

But when the weeks passed
and I continued to spin
without appearing to turn
I began to doubt again--

what more could I do
to shatter whatever invisible barrier
blocked my forward progress?--

perhaps something new
would bring in the new

so I began a slew
of fresh healthy activities:

I chanted along
with a recording of monks

and wrote daily in a dream journal--
analyzing scenes of mirrors and fog.

I surreptitiously laid
a stone walkway
in our city park--
a monument to the many strong people
working in the shadows
for the good of all.

I rearranged my files
then rearranged the rearrangement--

signaling to
the powers that be
(maybe outside, maybe within me)
that I was quite ready
for the disruption
of a new beginning.

But despite all I did
I still seemed to spin
without turning

so I again darkened with doubt

until a dream showed
pink-gold sunrays
erasing the gray
of a skylight above me.

Waking in joy
I then began to crow--
finally I understood:

though the mornings
may seem the same
I am turning my world.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
searching for my best beliefs: poetry ebook

My Better World

author's note:

“We experience a dream as real because it is real.”
              -- Dr. William C. Dement


MY BETTER WORLD

The excited uncertainty
of crossing a stone bridge in dark fog

ended
before I'd reached the end--ended
with the alarm of morning

and as I began my usual routine
the intensity faded
and I forgot the dream

until that afternoon:

while waiting to cross a city street
I suddenly recalled the night bridge
hidden and revealed and hidden
by the tease of shifting clouds

and as the feeling returned
my day world of blatant sunlight
became as real as that dream:

the traffic light warning me...
the bleached grey fence...
a vacant lot overgrown with weeds--
all seemed strangely alive

and I felt myself to be
an alien spirit
discovering a wonderland

then the light changed
and as my attention shifted
that sense of intensity faded:

once again I was
a lowly armadillo
grubbing along the asphalt.

However
that feeling of living
in a grander world
is not lost, only asleep

and sometimes
stirs from slumber
to end my daydream.

I then remember
I am more than a mere
creature of survival.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

Many New Dawns

author's note:

Reality...what a concept!
      -- Robin Williams


MANY NEW DAWNS

I awoke to the morning sun
as if struck by lightning

then woke again--

shocked
as I realized
my first awakening
had been a dream.

I pinched myself then
to be certain of my reality

then woke again

but this time
to the actual physical world

though a philosopher might ask
can you be sure?

To that I'd reply:
maybe not--but
I’m pretty sure I know
what the dream says
which is:

enlightenment doesn't happen
in one final lightning moment
but with many awakenings--
many new dawns.

And I say:
we are never done--
not even after
we've gone beyond.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
searching for my best beliefs: poetry ebook

Living in a Dream

author's note:

I think I hold the world's record for daydreaming.


LIVING IN A DREAM

In the dream
I bit into an apple

like the apple
I bit into
last Sunday
as I sat, daydreaming
beneath a droopy tree.

However
my dream apple
seemed much more intense
than my day apple--

maybe the dream came to wake me

with this message:

see what you miss
when you lazily ignore
just how incredible
your mundane life is.

I must not forget:
we live in a dream.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

What I Discovered at the Sleep Lab

author's note:

Peace: always a work-in-progress.


WHAT I DISCOVERED AT THE SLEEP LAB

In our studies at the sleep lab
the quietest test subjects
often report
such loud dreams.

For instance:
the muted woman
who told us how she'd fought
to keep herself intact
as she spun up inside
a crazy gray tornado:

she described her struggle
with an elation absent later
when she awoke from seeing
a white dove perched
on her sunny window sill.

I wanted to say to her:
ironic, isn't it?--you're
more excited by the war
than by the peace you've earned.

But no, I did not--
we're only allowed to make
some marks on a chart.

However
that evening I again sounded off
over drinks with my associates--
abandoning my science for the moment
to repeat with certainty this belief:

the dreams we record are proof
that all lives--
  even those so common
  even those so low
  even those so quiet
hold the highest goal.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
my war for peace: poetry ebook

Old Hope Reborn

author's note:

Whoever invented the alarm clock must've hated dreams.


OLD HOPE REBORN

In the dream...

my shoulders slumped
in sad humility

as I looked down at
my footprints in the dust
and saw such chaos--
just a roundabout mess of steps.

I could see no gain
in that circle of clutter--
no, only loss.

But then a voice
(maybe within, maybe without)
said:

you're a labyrinth within a labyrinth.

So I checked again
and lo!--
I began to see a design...`

a pattern too soon shattered
by the dull drill of my alarm.

But though I can't recall
the truth I saw
at least, I again believe
a plan exists
for me...for all of us:

so again I have hope--

perhaps foolishly so
but oh--
I enjoy being young again.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton searching for my best beliefs: poetry ebook

dUNKED

Up from the bottom
  of an old pond,
  that duckling
has seen something strange.
     -- Joso (trans. Beilenson/Behn)


dUNKED

In those ocean dreams...

I want to bob on the top
of the water like a buoy
even though I know
if I don't dive down
I will be dunked

dunked again:

drawn down
by some force of nature--down
to dark depths
where faces float like jellyfish:

they seem so foreign
and yet I'm told
they're all a part of me--

even the women
even the animals
even the machines.

Occasionally I’ll witness
a face so luminous--
I burst to the surface with joy

but more often I'm greeted
by something much dimmer:
maybe a blank-eyed robot
or a drooling dog.

So next time I find myself
bobbing at the top
I may again resist
when I feel
that downward pull...

even though I know
I'll be dunked if I do

yes--dunked again.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

Remembering the Reason

author's note:

Remembering poet Donald Hall, 1928-2018


REMEMBERING THE REASON

I believe
when we open our eyes
on the day of birth
we forget

our reason for being born

then spend the rest of our lives
trying to remind ourselves
in dreams.

To be honest
I often miss those reminders
because I'm reluctant to look
at what I've dreamt:

such disappointment
when I witness my weakness

but also a shock
when a dream reveals
a strength disowned

and after seeing both
one and other
I'm again confronted
with the great challenge:
to rise above one
so I can reach the other.

I believe this work to be
our reason for being born.

So, though I'm reluctant
I still want to look.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
searching for my best beliefs: poetry ebook

Sleeping with the Whale

author's note:

"Don't wake him up.  He's got insomnia--he's trying to sleep it off."
        -- from the Marx Bros.' A Night at the Opera


SLEEPING WITH THE WHALE

When I wake up
in the depth of night
I often feel a lump
--a whale hump--
beneath my dream pillow.

I'll then adjust my head
and shift and twist
but I can only ever get
semi-comfortable:

the truth is,
in my heart I sense
the beast waiting for me
beneath the waves...

even at rest we don't rest--

both day and night
we're learning
how to ride this whale.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

Glad to Share My Incredible Nightmare

author’s note:

I'm reminded of the expression, "He's a nice person--when he's asleep."

Whoever coined that phrase has never seen my dreams.


GLAD TO SHARE MY INCREDIBLE NIGHTMARE

What a night!--
hail rained down
all through my dreams
to stick in my throat and boot
the next morning
as I tried to talk and walk
as if not so discombobulated
by a sleep
that was non-sleep.

I believe
the steam of what boils in my heart
finds release in dreams--
sometimes creating something quite sweet:
an angelic pipe-organ melody

but more often
blasting a cacophony:

last night, those tight little fists of ice
whipped down on flat stone
in rattling waves of roar--!

But I must admit
such storms light me up
with their lightning

even though in the morning
I'm left frazzled
in the burnt-crisp aftershock...

a charge and burn absent the next night
when I'm refreshed and eased
by gentle visions gone in a wisp...

leaving me with no better story
than to repeat what happened
night before last.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

The Success of My Failure

author's note:

I never had anyone tell me a dream where afterwards my life had changed for the better.
     -- Richard Ford, from Writers Dreaming, by Naomi Epel


THE SUCCESS OF MY FAILURE

I hesitate to tell the dream

because my clumsy words
will trample its textured elegance

but we are cursed
with the blessed desire
to express the inexpressible

and though I will fail
I may still succeed
if the place I describe
reminds you of a place
from your own dreams

and so you again know
a feeling inexpressible.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

When I Saw Your Tresses on the Pillow...&...Great Life

dear reader:

Two for the price of one today.


WHEN I SAW YOUR TRESSES ON THE PILLOW

How can these wild dreams be
true tales of a tame waking life?

I asked myself when I awoke
from that dream in which
your tresses cascaded
down a long set of steps

then answered that question
by shining a soft light
over your fierce tangles
and discovering there
a waterfall of fiery life.




GREAT LIFE

Frustrated by the necessary limitations
of my crib...

I find release
in the expansion granted
by my nightly dreams

which, I'm told
are actually pictures
of my pen...

what a great life we secretly live.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

Dreaming the Wounded Eagle

author’s note:

Up from the bottom
    of an old pond,
    that duckling
has seen something strange.
        -- Joso (trans. Beilenson/Behn)


DREAMING THE WOUNDED EAGLE

When the eagle plummeted from the sky

straight down into the lake

I felt so confused:
how could anything so powerful
crash--?--
how could something so grand
simply vanish--?

I awoke in such an astonished state--
I could not think

and so, began to feel
the desperate message
in my depths--

a message maybe a few
(or maybe many)
could also use
so I will translate
what the eagle silently told me:

now you've seen the wound--

so maybe now
you will go against
lower instinct
and push yourself down
and down
and down
into this shocking cold water--

will you finally save me?

Since that dream message
I've gone on countless dives
and though I can't yet claim
to have resurrected the eagle...

considering what I have raised
I can say:

I'm glad I disobeyed
the fear that warned me
to stay on dry land.

Dreaming the Truth

author's note:

Heart attacks often occur in the morning hours during the last phase of REM (dream) sleep.


DREAMING THE TRUTH

The truth must actually be important:

otherwise why would my dreams
ruin a soft nourishing sleep
by revealing the true chaos
of my waking life?--

ruin, by revealing
my relentless distress

then add to that distress
by revealing
I’m not yet over the sorrow
I thought I’d put to rest
years ago

and then
at the end of night
stun me one more time
by revealing the love
behind my dislike
and the anger raging under
what I thought
was calm acceptance.

No wonder our hearts often burst
while we're asleep...

but maybe my dreams will be
a little easier on me
if I can wake myself
to more of the truth
amid the chaos of these days.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
my war for peace: poetry ebook

Galaxy Sleep

author's note:

Our dreams remind us how extraordinary our ordinary lives are.


GALAXY SLEEP

According to one theory...

as we ease into sleep
our minds begin to spiral
and expand
like a hurricane
like a galaxy:

though we think we rest
we actually spread and accelerate
through an interstellar space--

each night we extend
just a little bit more
than before--
we grow even as we snore.

But when the alarm sounds
we contract--
in a mere instant
we slam back together again!

I'm not sure of that theory
but I do know:
in a blink I’m awake
and in the rush of morning thought
I quickly forget
my nighttime universe...

but later, while waiting in traffic
I may sense a soft buzz of stardust within
then dimly recall a meteor or a planet.

What I lost probably wasn’t that important
I'll tell myself

but in truth, at such times
I feel like a kid
who's just missed the circus
and must return to class.

myth steps blog
© 2018, Michael R. Patton