11 July 2023 (dreaming)
Kristen Lindquist
dreaming about
primroses and their moths
summer dark
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BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY
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Filtering by Tag: dream
dreaming about
primroses and their moths
summer dark
shuffling through a dream playlist all night the river
river glare
parsing last night’s dream
for the truth
late winter
the snow plow scrapes away
my last dream
rain instead of snow
he never remembers
his dreams
I often dream that I’m writing haiku, but upon waking, don’t often remember what I wrote. This morning I did, though, and I thought the haiku kind of worked, if you remember that old joke: “make like a tree and leave.” The subconscious amazes me.
*
making like a tree migrant sparrows
Perseids
distant friends appear
disappear in a dream
a dream of flying
I had it in me
all along
surreal dreams all night . . .
the last of the peonies
drops its petals
just a little snow
on each fallen leaf
thoughts lost on waking
I think about haiku so much that sometimes I even dream them. A couple mornings ago I woke up with this haiku in my head. I can’t make any sense of it, but I’m kind of intrigued by it nonetheless. Feel free to share your analysis with me!
swamp candles. . .
a miscarriage
of justice
(A “swamp candle” is a yellow loosestrife, a fairly common Maine wildflower.)