three word poem, gone astray


oh sleep

(eyes, blinking open.)

you see?   that’s enough, however look
I’ve made up thinking more.

too eager?   a judgment certainly.

what’s in that brimming bowl?

sweet forgetfulness (oh, yea, I understand).

my muscles, not holding rigid thoughts.

a space for dreams to see their stories right.

light.   at least a bushel’s worth.

one white butterfly.

ask, if you’d be fond of a spoon in your hand.

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