Rain tip-taps on my
window, as I drift into
dream-land peacefully
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My Dream-Father (flash fiction)
Most times, my dreams aren’t profound, nor do they make much sense. Dream-logic, I’m told, never does. But this dream felt different. My father appeared on the football field of my youth. In life, he was a short man. But in this dream, he towered over me.
He wore denim dream-jeans, faded blue, and ripped at the knees. He smoked a giant dream-cigarette, and the smoke billowed like it was from a power plant. His dream-muscles were large and imposing, like Zeus’.
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Book Review: The Dream Songs by John Berryman
Since I’ve been writing more poetry, I’ve been reading more poetry lately. I’ve read some newer stuff, but I’ve also been reading many of the classics, including William Blake, T.S. Eliot, and W.B. Yeats.
I recently read an anthology of 20th century American poetry that was comprehensive regarding the poets it included. One of the poets that struck me the most was John Berryman, and the anthology included poems from his much-celebrated volume called The Dream Songs.
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Past Lifetimes (a poem)
in dreams, i tremble
before unseen forces
always at work behind
scenes & a screen
of smoke that masks their faces
but not beaming eyes
that stare from shadowed corners
of my brain
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Dreamland (a poem)
just before slumber
there’s a moment between
dream & wakefulness
a hazy realm
eyes closed
your smelly dog
at the foot of the bed, growling
the moment happens
in milliseconds
you fall into dreamland
shifting sands
awake to sunlight
peering through heavy curtains
a new day – but
are you still in dream?
this whole thing may not
be what it seems
(Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash)
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The Face of Tomorrow (a poem)
The face of tomorrow is here today
a child with bright eyes + an imagination
working overtime –
The face of tomorrow is here to stay
in a school’s dusty hallways,
dreaming of ways to change the world.
(Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash)
