Letters
I sent a letter
written in sand
colors aglow.
I don’t know
what it said
but it was true.
I sent a letter
written in salt
dug deep as it requires,
white as my desires.
I sent a letter
written in light
that burned as
each page turned
till there was
no more night.
April 2012
Another hedgewitchian dream message
in 55 incomprehensible pieces,
for the G-Man
Image: Sand Painting--Mandala, by Henry Law on flick'r
Caption: "This was done by Tibetan monks in Brighton then destroyed to show the impermanence of everything."
Caption: "This was done by Tibetan monks in Brighton then destroyed to show the impermanence of everything."
Shared under a Creative Commons 2.0 Generic License
sand salt and light...i kinda like my nights so if you could maybe send me the first one...sand i can deal with...even if i cant read it...bet its always shifting though...but if i got a papercut with the second it would be all over....
ReplyDeleteYeah, like when you have one and go for the salt and vinegar chips...sigh. I remember those. Thanks for reading, brian--I'm amazed your eyes still work after yesterday.
DeleteI have never encountered such letters! I cannot even be sure of the proper amount of postage!
ReplyDeleteOkay, you *knew* I had to say something like that, right?
This must have been a remarkable dream. As a general rule, light is always a positive sign in dreams.
It felt pretty positive though hard to tell when you're in a coma. Hopefully, the postage on weightlessness hasn't gone up lately, or I'm getting them all back.
DeleteVery intriguing! You must be exhausted in the mornings after all your dreams.
ReplyDeleteThankfully i don;t have them every night--but it's no worse than sitting up with baby goats, anyway. ;_)
Deletehow did baby goats work there way into the conversation? :)
ReplyDeleteThis is nice penned (or typed). Really like this:
"colors aglow.
I don’t know
what it said
but it was true."
r.m. @ newviewfromhere.wordpress.com
Teresa has them--(actually, Teresa's mother goats have them, but I assume she has to walk the floor with them every once in awhile.)Thanks for reading.
DeleteAhhhh....
DeleteDon't be so Freudian!
What about the 18 dreams that you didn't remember?
But thanks for sharing your complex noggin with us..:-)
Loved your dre...er 55!!
Thanks for sleeping, and have a Kick Ass Week-End
Happy Easter
Nobody has ever thanked me for sleeping before. *preens* I'm pretty good at it, if I say so myself--except when I'm up all night writing down weird stuff. Have a chocolaty, gooey easter, dude.
DeleteLovely to read, and envision.......beautiful writing, Joy. "till there was no more night." 55 words, hey? You made each one count.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sherry.
DeleteAh! Very nice! You are more than "treading water."
ReplyDeleteSee the thing is I'm a prose (fiction) writer by nature; you are a poet.
Agh.
K.
p.s. I should have put a comma after "see." (Ha!)
DeleteHa! and, Sez You. 'See the thing is' is almost one word. ;-)
Delete... I'm too tired to dream lately! :) I wake up worried I have forgotten to do something.
ReplyDeleteCan't decipher it for you, but it sounds like an intriguing dream...
That's okay--I gave up trying to figure them out a long time ago. Hope you get some good rest, Margaret.
DeleteYou have the coolest dreams! I'm just wandering around my old school in my underwear or something.
ReplyDeleteHa! I get those too--and sometimes I bite the kids I hated.
DeleteYou do have cool dreams. And you remember them. Very handy for poem making.
ReplyDeleteThe poem is almost as tiny as grains of sand or salt, but it really shines, as I think about forgetting most of what happens (I never remember poems I've written, except for a few). Like light that's new every day, or the sand flattened after being swiped by the wind or a hand, the message can be new every morning, though we probably bring the same old soul along on the journey. Somehow, I think the soul is always bright, no matter what dark curtains she peers through at times.
ReplyDeleteLovely!
ReplyDeleteDreams and poems are inscribed in and torn from the same breviary, especially here. I love triads- here sand, salt, light -- for they somehow fill up the heart (it must have three depths, as the goddess had three aspects). Here is a beach I savor, a 55 more alive than I've seen among its neighbors. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteThanks, B. Yes, three is a good number that builds on itself. The colors were really intricate, and the white was really white...This one was right before waking, sent me scrambling for the pad.
DeleteYou are a poet and know how to use repitition to your advantage and make us hang on every word.
ReplyDeleteVery cool poem! and sooo true!! those amazing designs- you nailed it thanks!
DeleteI love the very idea behind this, Hedge. Perhaps because I dreamed of letters myself this past week: such an ephemeral form of communication, which your sand and salt and night has captured so well. Brilliant composition.
ReplyDelete"I don’t know
ReplyDeletewhat it said
but it was true."
That is very cool (and intriguing in a writer's dream).