The National Museum of dreams
is closed on Mondays. Ad Infinitum.
In the petting zoo, a lamb rehearses
Bach’s requiem. You can’t sleep.
You imagine you’re a butcher;
your mother awakens on the table
& in front of all the other men
grabs your cleaver & wags it at you
shouting, don’t you dare mention my
appendectomy. Your written exam asked
Heart? & you answered B, the empty
chamber of a gun. Even the shooting
range is closed on Mondays. Rehearse
in your glass house, a requiem
for the final dream – beneath your ribs
that catatonic feeling. You are adding
an appendix to the list of Monday’s closures:
the melodies of caged animals, it begins,
jars of morning air, the instrumental
ache of hunger.
somehow very different of many other works you put up in here, Graham
i like it a lot, the complexity of it, the dreamy feeling
Glad you got that dreamy feeling Dhyan. I really pushed myself on this one to capture that semi-lucid dream state.
as i, myself, struggle with creating that rocking unstable lucid feeling into words, i appreciate very much your success in making it so alive and felt
Wow, Graham!
thanks Ash!
Quite a dark poem as I read it…one that has forced me to ponder the lines and connect them back to your title…should have had my coffee before reading anything.
Glad the poem made you cycle back to the beginning… thanks as always for reading!
Just that subtle disturbance, disturbing beneath the delicate construction and immaculate balance. “rehearse in your glass house, a requiem” There is a lot of music in this poem but in a different key.
It is a different key for me… but I do love experimenting with new music.
Brilliant Graham – one of your best. The turn in the last line is the perfect ending.
Thanks so much Gabe… glad the ending resonated.
dig this one alot – the recess opens
Thanks GG… I like the cut of your gib,