Reaching back for the poem that evaporates …

DCP00666.

Before I woke up,
I was dreaming about this post
I even had a rhythm,
with caesuras in the middle —
What was it, something about birds?
I should have risen and written.
I remember editing this poem,
the bird songs outside
changing the punctuation,
which altered the alliteration
and the meaning, as if
coming into consciousness
were the death of meaning.

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