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.