Dream Books

Vintage Words


At waking, there are vague

lists left behind, chronicling what

occurred as sleep. Wafer thin

entities tease the memory,

begging to be remembered,

fading too fast to congeal.

Glimpses flicker, vanish. Reoccur

like the eye trying to follow one mote

of dust in a bright shaft of morning.

Like wind blown creatures made

of clouds. The image gets lost

and the good feeling wants it back.

Whatever it was, there is a book

that has a number or two

that names it. 




View allets's Full Portfolio