Sunday, August 18, 2019

prose poem - 'A man might lose himself...'

A man might lose himself inside the blankets of his own life, go to sleep, and wake up one day as a dog, or a giraffe, or a wren. “What was my name, before, when I was a man? Or did I just dream it all?” He might think that as he moves through this new life, and the morning sunlight filters down through the green summer leaves of the trees.

18 Aug 2019

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The winter. Cool and wet.