Now that would be some genius,
Not to steal ideas from dreams,
But to carve from deep sleep
Art, the work of resistance
To the underpolitics
Of breathing and surviving.
Medium wouldn’t matter
To an art emerged from sleep.
You sleep, and something happens,
The world shapes a new embrace.
When you wake up, there it is.
The poem in the place of rest.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.