Midnight, staring at the ceiling
Run roughshod over
fallow thoughts until
a furrow deep enough
to sleep in opens,
close the eyes
let fall the jaw
worm into the sub
world where symbols
now have drifted,
the confluence
of rivulets into rivers
churning dreams.
4 thoughts on "Midnight, staring at the ceiling"
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Nice description. I’ve been there. Good poem
Wow! Wonderful imagery and metaphor! Love “churning dreams”!!
Nicely written. Love the lines “a furrow deep enough
to sleep in.”
Good one! And yes, I know those “fallow thoughts.”