I made up a poem in a dream last night. It was a long dream, most of which I’ve forgotten. I was appearing at a festival. Most of the dream consisted of trying to find the owner of the festival to sort out where I would be performing. There was also a bit where I was lectured by my old Head Teacher. And a church. And lots of wet fields.
Anyway, we got to the performance which was in a tent. I was standing on a small stage. I’d just started to read my Ikea poem when a woman’s mobile phone started ringing. We all waited patiently for her to answer it.
Then I told the audience I’d just made up a poem. This was it –