Some children in churches
And foxes in boxes
And forest edged trailers
stood out in my dream
The Bushes were skiing
on mountains of seaweed
Where horses ate candy
and clowns blew on reeds
Some housemaids were fighting
On trams going nowhere
A night train blew shotguns
Right out of its stack
I woke up and wondered
What psyche possessed me
What roads much less traveled
Would give me a clue
But all this eludes me
While drinking my coffee
My guess is the pizza
Last night was no good.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's funny when we remember our dreams, makes a fun poem! ! !