Tuesday, March 27, 2012

the foetal arc of dream

what of the part that hurries to escape, that wants to turn from this eostar yodeling beautiful day and crawl back into the foetal arc of dream?

or who cannot help rising 5am before anything anyone everyone everything has breathed back to life from the small death petit mort of dream and sleep?

who else knows we are here, looming lurking above our bodies?
potentialities unfolding, amorphous, possible, lurking?


  1. I am more dissatisfied with this poem than any other that has ever come through. It doesn't feel done, it feels like what happens when a meal comes back up.

    I love the idea of the prompt, though. Here are some "typing errors" I couldn't figure out how to wrap in:
    lurnking instead of lurking (but also somehow learn/king?)
    ac - arc

    Another poem spun up but it was so filled with hate I cannot post it, the title/refrain was "oh offspring of genocidal invaders who like to sit by the river"... and you can imagine the rest

    Sometimes we get as much information from failed experiments...

  2. Huzzah! Another blue medal! "Most dissatisfied." So true that the poems that go cattywampus have good lessons, revelations, etc. inside.