Monday, February 13, 2017

Waking From Dreams

Last night I had a dream. This alone
should simply discredit anything
I'm inclined to write. How could I
expect your trust? I have already
given myself such an open license
to fabricate whole-cloth totally
from air. You must then assume
my adjectives are suspect, nouns
traveling under disguise, verbs

making themselves take action,
even articles cannot be trusted
in their accuracy. Do I speak
of this dream? Or am I painting
with a brush I've made broader,
telling you I've made portraiture
of Dreams as a whole, when all
I have done is relate my singular
nocturne? In other words, am I

lying to you? Given the excuse
we don't ask for dreams we get,
maybe I was merely in the right
dream at the wrong-time, or else
the other way around, and also
silver fish, like a Spring breeze,
circling the moon. Wait... what
was I saying? Oh yes, the dream
I had. I will spare you the details.

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