art rat cafe

words, images and food for thought

Spoken in sleep,

“Is that alright? The barn is covered in snow!”

Packed deep white over the old warped roof

(yesterday was still summer)

I suddenly wake dreaming to the hand of winter

cold on my sleeping.

Pupae-like I nestle in golden hay

and the sweet breath of sheep and cows

blankets me.

It is alright, the snow I mean,

but how I ache for heat and sun.


Ever hopeful for a dream

they say he sleeps with a tape-recorder

under his pillow

and a pen between his teeth.

Dream Eater get screwed,

unhand my visions!

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