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 The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 204 times
Written on 2017-07-20 at 09:05

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Very nice. I think that I would like to visit your dreams. Mine all have a common theme: something will go wrong. Flip-flops blow out, buildings collapse, pipes burst, clothes, airline tickets, homework get lost. Once, I was attacked by a bear, and the only way that I could break free was by concentrating, and realizing that I only was dreaming.

ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo! Another good work, Tom.