2014 #235

Just then or less just then and more when
the appointed dreamscape was deep
in another indigo shift,
both creator and dreamscape had to watch
their works blow away and the creator’s
crusty eyes flipping open

gave the dreamscape no choice but flight
to the nearest distant dark corner
and bite its tongue
so as to not materialize
for if it materialized
it would never again get any

employment in the dreamscape field
– anyway, the cause of the calamity
was a collective
cause as in a collection
of individual clouds crammed
into the bedroom and the creator

had no opportunity to analyze
anything but only to acknowledge
the fact of a cloud collection crammed
in his room, gathered around his bed,
and what little ability the clouds had
in forming clear facial expressions

to express their emotions they still
had the equivalent of earthling
countenances and were deft
in leaving no doubt for the creator
they forced to come wide awake,
that they were unhappy

clouds and unhappy
with a certain creator and one cloud
solved the mystery
of how the creator should greet
his misty intruders
by edging forward and cloudy fists

on its cloudy hips, formed a cloudy
frown, and said, “your depiction
– the naked way your tale exposes
your dearth of research and that you simply

flung assertions without taking time
to double-check accordance
and at least faking half a jab
at logic, well, we’re all highly upset.

Oh and you should sleep in pajamas
now that autumn reaches its own autumn
for you will need to be hale for all
the errors you need to rectify.”

“And just what – oh – oh
okay, I know I thought of it.
I was going to go in and fix it
– guess I didn’t realize-“

“Didn’t realize.
Wasn’t thinking.
Nice. How deeply
must a creator think

to see the failure to differentiate
clouds from the cloud drivers? See!
You’re doing it now! We
were to be drivers! Not clouds!”


About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
This entry was posted in free verse, narrative?, nutty, poeticprosish, poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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