Wednesday, May 04, 2011


I filled the three brass cylinders
Each the length of a hand
With wet mud
And left them overnight

When I emptied them
The next morning
Bizarre creatures
Had hatched in the mud
A black bug, half spider – half nasty
With thin, stingy bits
Squeezed itself from the tube

A coil of wet mud
Became a short, fat snake

Or maybe it was a worm
The dream is already fading

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