are never written down
but dictated to me
on the edge of sleep
by Hermes
brief snatches in a
hypnopompic state
brilliant interludes
woven together with
abstract deliberation
each word perfect like
light filtered through
drops of dew on a spiderweb
i should get up
i should write
them down but
instead i wander away
into the land of Nod
the poems disassembled
their components tinder
for fictional flames
i guarantee you
they are better
than this one
No comments:
Post a Comment