Beginnings
 
 

I went to sleep last night,
lay down on a pile of paper
leaning for a pen
       and slept.
 

Dreamt of writing
reminding myself
That when I woke
       I would remember
all these lovely drifting words
       violet meanings glistening
       like light in petals
       -drowned in them,
                       indulge..
 

and so I did.
       Remembered.
Writing
in my sleep,
the feeling
       somewhere, miles away
one dreamed contentedly
       of sleeping among sheaves
paper piled with words
elegantly overlaid
       words over words
 

looked,
       at the bed sheets
crumpled ruin,
       husks of dreams
                 empty tousled
                 paper
                 sheets
 

What if I'd woken
       moved
       picked
up a pen?

That sweet knit flow
which bared and bartered
       in soft loosened soul
               might not have been
and me
       unhealed
               revealed.