Tuesday, November 29, 2011


A yawn away from nightmare slumber,
the moon descending
obscured by clouds.

The brilliance of another wonder
fades to pitchfork
prodding embers.

Dreamt the sun was trapped within
the shrouded word 
would come alive.

Poems like clouds to catch the din
a flash of wooling
on shorn black sheep.

Fleeting fables to light unseen,
I don't know clouds
forget the dream...

Mortal death wakes upon sleep.