18 de jan. de 2017

breakfast at Laurie Anderson

in the first hour of my dream
i sit with Laurie Anderson
it's Illinois
it's a table

we sit in silence
we don't talk
she'd rather smiling

strange
sounds
dreams
once
I haven't dreamed
on her screen

the angel says:
meet or bread?
I look at her
dog
Reed
I conflict
the meet

i can't speak
about
my
mother:
no breathe
her
eyes
melting
my
weeping

Laurie offers
fish
a napkin
Laurie
says
nothing

my dog lives.



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