when we fall asleep where do we go?

two legs swinging over the edge, water
and fish below.   no line, no hook.

maybe a boat will come.   we’ll fly past
the moon.   scatter some crumbs on cheese.

did we remember to bring the cat?

a calico of unusual residence.

do I dream of poems?   no, more likely
pie.   peach to make a wish.

cross the line.   yawn.   a second time.
write home to mom.   a figure of speech.

the cat is nibbling toes.   no new poem
yet.   I’m late.   and the world goes on.

sleep cares neither.   the world is fine.

wake to write another day.

2 thoughts on “sleepish

  1. Neil, I like this one. It leaps as do words making sounds that pull up meaning from memory. A veritable encyclopedia of images, experiences, things, and places. The missing line and hook, but still we fish in memory to make more images in hopes of making a poem. You say you didn’t, but you did. And no matter the outcome, I too hope tomorrow will bring another one for both of us…



    1. You are ever kind my friend. You sort of prove the notion, give a thread and allow some reader, much as you, to follow and find what they find by their own sight. Just what a poem at best is supposed to do I think. Really, it’s a collaboration in the richest of sense. thank you. you are a good listener.


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