Apr 4, 2009

Dreams. And poems.

I've been having so many strange, vivid dreams and I'm over the dream journal thing, so...I decided it would be way funner to write poems about said dreams. And publish for all to see (or interpret). Knock yourselves out.

That Fleece

under the words, i'm floating in the guitars
i'm listening for you

dreaming of Midwest bars and poor babies (they will make better music)

dreaming that i know you, that i am in the room

i am picked, it is quiet
all fields and diners and families and locals

and i'm guilty. and i'm free.

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