Tuesday, December 23, 2008

dream ride

the image of the name
flashed like a flame
now it’s a shame
not to recall

where, how, who it is,
what was happening and why,
I should have awakened and made a note
and written it upon the sky

debris on Wild Sleep River moved on,
floated tumbling, passed while I dreamed,
whatever so concerned me then
is not so important now, as it had seemed

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

A good reason to keep a piece of paper and a pen beside the bed. I like this poem.

Annie said...

I generally hate it when that happens, a line for a poem or a story will enter my head, or a memory come back to me in a dream, or in a half-sleep, and then it's gone. Or it's a person, but we can't quite tell if it's an aspect of ourselves we recognize or someone else in disguise. Other times we savor the experience, knowing it will be fleeting.