dawn

shot through with garish
purple, turquoise and orange
– the sky’s defiant

I was worried the last couple of days that my poems were much too prosaic, as though I were just putting together words in some kind of way that ignored the emotional dimension. So I’m making a deliberate effort this morning to be ‘poetic’. If that sounds like a nightmare proposition, at least it does seem to have encouraged me to capture something of the nightmare quality of last night’s dream. It wasn’t an outright nightmare at all. But there was a very intimidating Japanese or oriental lady, who ruled a household with an absolute rod of iron. I was on the phone to her. The poem’s imagery doesn’t derive literally from the dream. But the ‘feel’ is about right.

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