Something of import, shown in a dream, is lost in translation.

————

What sieve

will distill a dream?

A thing of moment

intimated,

but confounded

by dictionary devils.

Enticing in its grey distance,

alluring in its apple wholeness,

it follows like a moon.

One wakes

to the knives of morning,

mourning the loss of the thing.

Struck dumb,

as it were.

By Lee Dunn

From: Canada

Website: https://wordpress.com/view/secret-lifeof.com

Twitter: 66human