« Qevyn Gibson » Sleep Instead of Dream The night looks in with the secret light of a thousand blinking eyes dressed in indigo shadows like a cocaine cutting whore; grinding her teeth on the post of a knotty bed. Lashes of trees - lids of tickled persuasion. Nightmares of black wolves and thunder storms cannot keep you awake when new sleep is there tapping on the glass. Watching you. Smoking gravity and vowels, floating like sighs, touching every upright hair planted in the the muscles of the neck as they escape out the open window. Watch the night - it watches you. And dance this dance of spectred madness like the eyes aren't there. Famous, with fine tuned binoculars, writing down every filthy touch on the pages of the skin Illuminate the dark with abstractions cloaked in shiver. Stand atop the bed frame and whisper in blue: Night, you have nothing left for me - give me day, I beg you. And the Night: Rest your head on her sunlit hip when comes the silver dawn. You are as real as ever now, there in a lover's bed without hope of tomorrow or care or sight. Drawing influences from diverse sources such as Leonard Cohen, Hip-Hop pioneer Big Daddy Kane and encaustic artist Tony Scherman, Qevyn Gibson paints a portrait of love with a unique edge. Having written poetry and prose for twenty years he is currently working on his second self-published compilation, due out sometime in summer 2007. A prolific poet hailing from Toronto Canada, he now resides in Nova Scotia, relocating for love and lobster.