The poem I’m wrestling with
wrestled with me all week.
My dreamlife gave me these ideas:
That pungent vinaigrette in the little dish:
pour the rest over the poem.
It will taste delicious.
Push that boulder which is also a word
over the poem’s hillside.
See how much moss, grass and other worlds it gathers.
Read this dream article on your subject.
We offer you your essential point, in dream
language. Use it.
That shovel. On the blackish background.
In the center. Here, you. Dreamer, poet, person.
Start digging.