Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋

Prompt 3:

Formerly: ‘Raised … in a memory’s dream’

I heard you say
only one metaphor at a time —
all you could follow

am I dreams —
when I don’t speak to you?
artless?

Let me keep this straight
while working on another poem in my head…
I see —
crayons
color
mother…
She hugs me.
Appreciation?
I draw another and another, lifelong
to please her.

Wish I could near you,
merge with song.

Everyone is mother, because…
I chase something across a barren rug.

Oh, there you are.
I’m holding my drawing up…
I remember you say everything is poetry…yes/no?

Where there’s beauty is song?
No reception…

The purpose of these crayons?

mother raised me wrong.

she died.

Indifferent, the song plays on.
I surpassed into nothing but a void,
living in a memory’s dream,
recast into shapes like you, with
eyes
ears
nose.

You don’t follow this cryptic form of communication
that lives in the untold —
yet, visualize this incipient space?
That’s me! That’s where I live!

But (~none~) conceive what cannot be, that
cannot bond to your atoms.


11/2023
41 lines, free form

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horror_vacui_(physics) :
         https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horror_vacui_(physics)#Origin

Can I breathe now?

Wanted to end with an added line…
I’m not living a dream?
-or-
I’m not even the memory of a dream.

a little too…
Afterthoughts: To exist is to be acknowledged?
Earth is true purgatory.

11.30.23 last edit