about the dream I had
last night:
you were there to be broken,
impulses high,
a code waiting to become pictures.
I was old, couldn't stand
any longre.
Suddenly, a phone call;
one-armed neurons hushed to the end.
Do you know where dreams come from?
Mid-conversation,
the morgue,
a roving eye,
the good looks we choose,
a diversity in the forebrain,
the day,
unforeseen circumstances.
Guard your devotion.
No comments:
Post a Comment