We cross worlds each night inside our dreams,
but the images we carry back are garbled.
This is intentional–
Its job is to remind us which are real
of all the worlds we wander.
We cross worlds each night inside our dreams,
but the images we carry back are garbled.
This is intentional–
Its job is to remind us which are real
of all the worlds we wander.
aka: The Happy Bookers
Artist
MOSTLY MONTREAL, MOST OF THE TIME
I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"
custom poems on vintage typewriters
One Poet's Writing Practice
A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014
Living in the moment
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
Nice description of the dream world… 🙂
Thanks, truly, for reading and following, and for your thoughtful comments.