December 8, 2017Poem

Dream sleep

citymemoryidentitymortalitysolitude

Dream sleep

Comes to visit

All too easily

When unexpected

Gentle visions

Overlay the afternoon

Even when walking

The story reread

In my head

Is a different one

To the book

I rewrite every day.

A series of photographs

Play

On the outside

Rearranged

They revolve into a

Repetitious

Spinning wheel

A camera obscura

The world as

Seen through a zoetrope

The flicker

Of a carousel

Caught

In deep reflection

Before an empty mirror

A barfly

Drink me dry.

It would take

Only but a minute

To transform

This daydream

Into a nightmare

Delusions are real

If you believe.

In isolation

It is only the

Pain of discovery

That barters illusion

As the price

Paid for truth.

Sleep

Is a friend

But only for the minute

It takes to remember that

Nothing happens

To sleep walkers

Until they wake.