out of sync the wheel
squeaks, too many little
brown mice with big mice ears
have chewed my bearings
a sunbeam sits on my
dislocated shoulder
and the cat's in the cradle
sleeping with the whole ball of wax
(what a yarn that is!)
i sharpen my nails and
dig in the posthumous dirt
of my arrival, coming
undone by the light of the silvery
moon, sprinkles melting on cupcakes
and newlyweds
it's nine yards and an inch,
hail hail all ye who enter
my sleep, prepare for Occam's
close shave, reality bites the dust
and then backtracks into ruts
of self-disclosure, counting crows,
mismatched socks, and coins for the ferryman
watching hi-def TV and writing poetry
that falls by the wayside, colours
of flesh and inhibition, the scent of lavender
honeysuckle and ginger blossoms
pounding at my door:
wake up you crazy easy fool,
time is ticking and the crocodile is not
far away, your shadow is being dry-cleaned.
Comments
Ann
have you told your therapist of these dreams, hahaha.
I hate it, when I can't sleep, and I mow find it happening more often
I know your plight.
Eddie C.
Actually I sleep wonderfully,
Actually I sleep wonderfully, like a baby, and when I awaken, it's usually to write a poem, been hit with the flu this past week so it's been rough.
Only a Dream ~ Neil Young http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJNB8fXje3I