Laundry, cookies, churchyard buttercups:
irregular flotsam of an afternoon dream;
faces clear as gemstones (what's he doing here,
that politician from thirty years ago?),
speech gone haywire, dulcet gibberish
of psychic relaxation, mental blur.
Projected on the screen of the lapsing brain,
odd gobbets of lost cinema retrieved,
a picture-book where wishes are fulfilled
through morphic and induplicable magic.
Orthography distorted, reason tipsy,
secret languages scrawled in a journal:
to such bright trash, the sleeping sense would cling:
random photographs coughed up by sleep.
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
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Written on 2017-07-20 at 09:05
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