Dream poem

hardware objects

In this dream I am alone listening to the words.
The world narrates itself to me at night.
Words unfurl their perfect formulae,
sharper than lightning and as smooth as stones.
Awake, I can’t remember them,
but they have made a dark constellation in me,
an intersecting reality

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About Diane Weist

First year of the baby boom, ex-hippie who always had a job, born with a raised eyebrow, only child and it shows, occasional painter and writer, outsider. Raging, raging against the dying of the light.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Dream poem

  1. sashley13 says:

    keep up the poetry!!!

    Like

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