Dream Books

Folder: 
Vintage Words

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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.

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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. 
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allets
10-14-13
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