dreaming a poem

Living a poem

At the hospital, I woke up in the night went to the loo.

Coming out I didn’t recognize the hall a woman came

told me to go back to bed, “but my father told

me to stay here” and I knew I was in a dream I could

not remember the title of

When young this tendency to become was strong

but with advancing years and cynical sobriety my

reading of poetry had cooled.

The nurse took me to bed I invented her into it she

chuckled, go to sleep now. I in the morning while

waiting for pre-breakfast coffee and a scone and

the nurses were busy sticking needles into me

I tried to remember the title of the poem, and I think

it was called “the boy on the burning bridge.”



◄ Hong Kong revoulution

a father in law ►


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