photo
It was almost sleeping
when the dreams spoke to me
in the evening clouds
their language of shadow
I would understand them by early morning, sometimes,
and islands floated, in the distance,
like points of light
Archives par mot-clé : dream
4132 poetry
photo: only a boat is missing (the books are in the trees), Pohara, indigenous forest.
it was in our thoughts
or maybe in our dreams
the green boat, or was it an arch (of Noah?)
leaving the shore
full of books
also green
with words we might read
in quiet disarray
on our way to the salted water
sans parole/wordless : beaute/beauty
traveling day
Dreams nestled in the palm of your hand
quite convenient for the train
they weigh almost nothing or
stand still in a corner
of the brain that leaves me at the station
for the train that goes nowhere haiku
falling from one’s chair
every day when it’s news time
new normal