The Art of Invisibility

As they figured out
The next phase
Of their
Six Point Plan
Love blossomed
Until we are cleared
Of murder, we
Hide our groceries
In busy shops
There is an art
To invisibility


This poem is made out of last nights dream scrawlings.  I woke from a scrambled dream at 3am.  It was a night of broken sleep as the baby was poorly.  There it sat, vivid and fresh, though my exhausted body had not caught up.  Catch this, so I write in my bedside notebook, in the dark, as I do when dreams wake me in the dead of night and my body is not fully able to co-operate.  Strange, looped handwriting, widely spaced to avoid overlap.  When I read it back the following evening, now, I get a wow sense.  Because now I don’t remember the dream at all, just the fact that I wrote bits of it down.  And it sounds like poetry.  These words bubbled out of my sub
conscious and writing them semi-comatose was how they got to connect with the outer world.  The last time this happened, the writing down of a dream I then had no recollection of, the result was the poem Dream Mermaid.

Those strange scrawled words that had formed themselves poem-like…. it was cool to see them, they had come through me, but they were not consciously mine.



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