Dreamed 1987/1/9 by Chris Wayan
I never had an eye for structure.|
Rap rhythm, the cadences of Yeats,
crabby Gothic symmetries of sonnets
... to me it's all just texture.
I grow concretions,
My life's in the word or line,
We build the fractal forms we know.
Chaos Congress! Once upon,
Hang like honey ants,
O-mouths blare, |
As in the best of theaters:
But the Speaker's flown.
Eye have no single I to see.
Still surprised my art grows
Human esthetic unity
Your, your, your, your
Your single signature.
World Dream Bank homepage - Art gallery - New stuff - Introductory sampler, best dreams, best art - On dreamwork - Books
Indexes: Subject - Author - Date - Names - Places - Art media/styles
Titles: A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - IJ - KL - M - NO - PQ - R - Sa-Sh - Si-Sz - T - UV - WXYZ
Email: email@example.com - Catalog of art, books, CDs - Behind the Curtain: FAQs, bio, site map - Kindred sites