Toasted Yogurt

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The Best Poem Of Toasted Yogurt

Yet Another Dream

It would have been better if I had slept forever.

Dryness beginning to cake my throat, a thick cloud of lead begins to fill my head.

My eyes betray no light. The world hides itself away. Sparse frames of trees pass through my eyes, and close again like the shutter of a camera.

My head rocks like a boat, the only support is centered by my neck.

There is no fear. No anger, no pain, just a willingness to go back to the scenes of family and brotherhood.

A team of wolves-like, hovering the busy city, wandering what is next, brimming with hesitation and expectation for the hunt.

A windmill, and shaking barley leaves christened in the summer sun. Old men plod little farms. The pool has closed. Pitter-patter of water lap between my toes.

Entangled in silk green snares and beams, I shake hands.

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