So, poetry has been happening lately. And I haven't known what to do with it. But I've decided poetry is all about voice. Am I right? Anyway, here's my latest. It's about last night.
Struggling with shadows between dream and life
As I twisted and turned, tangled in sheets,
Pictures spun by like the images in the tornado
that spun Dorthy to the Emerald City
And each was wrapped in a memory
Of touching and smelling and hearing
And each cried out as it tumbled by
Write! Remember me and write!
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