on the morning of the walk you stood with your hands by your head like the howl, shrieking though nothing came from you no sound was heard, though you yelled and yelled, was this a dream a confusion of consciousness above were falling feathers white quills for us each to grab they fell onto the path of light that our sweet lines revealed they fell in piles of white soft billows of bellowing sound that shot forth from the future we can lie in the feathers drop our hearts on the white dream yellow light dreams wake up to Nirvana. On the morning of the walk we talked and walked together I was trembling a dream I had a recurring dream of shouting shrieking so loud so desperately that no one could hear me you said you dreamt of feathers floating down from the sky people were picking them up to use as quills, there was a confusion where were they coming from, had a bird died in the sweet walk together we held hands and saw the yellow light of the horizon, a sunshine that comes up into the future stretching our dreams into the daytime
Confusion of consciousness..falling feathers ..quills to write with. A poem with an airiness and dreamlike quality that captures the magic of living and writing.. . Captures an important moment so thank yoi
Confusion of consciousness..falling feathers ..quills to write with. A poem with an airiness and dreamlike quality that captures the magic of living and writing.. . Captures an important moment so thank yoi