That Point – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Open Link Night


Art: Henri Rosseau 1840 – 1910. Post Impressionism. ‘The Sleeping Gypsy’ 1897.



That Point

That point when all has fallen away
when darkness has become a shroud on
which the psychedelia of dreamland
can majestically paint all that is
the technicolour stereopticon of
surreal unconscious lunar tides
on which I rise and fall,
just as breathing
so as dreaming,
until irruption rends and
registers other, lesser worlds
leaving disorientation in its wake
with the sorrow of leaving,
no going back
not wanting to go forward,
arrested state,
so as sleeping,
so as life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




Filed under Free Verse, life, mindfulness, poem

34 responses to “That Point – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

  1. yes most of us are sleeping, not realising we are in lala land!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The state of pungent reality where we are stuck in the limbo. A surreal piece.
    Loved reading it.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. What’s worse … to remain sleeping or to find one stuck and yearning for something else … either would be intolerable, I suspect. Love the awakening in this.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. ‘Irruption’, perfect word.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This is delicious – that yearned for sleep of oblivion – pure bliss – until it’s not, and will not be shaken.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I like the thought of rising and falling on unconscious lunar tides.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I love the thought of being in a place where it’s hard to see the border between dreams and what’s real

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Reaching a point where darkness is a shroud that awaits technicolor dream painting…..there is possibility in this line, potential for light and brightness and color and creativity and movement.
    Then getting stuck in a sterioptican….reminds me of those old ways to look at black and which photos through two parts…and only then could you see the full image. But here there is disorientation…a falling and a leaving and no going forward. An arrested state as sleep as life.
    This is a description, to me, of the deepest hell…the deepest depression.
    I hope there can be a full circle to the point where the darkness is no longer a shroud and only provides the backdrop for brush strokes of color…an opening for energy and life…a backdrop to live on rather than fall through.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. lync56

    Very deep



  10. Wonderful.
    Sleep itself a surreal state…

    Liked by 1 person

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