Saturday, July 29, 2006

The Dreaming Cantos 38: Apologies to Annie Hall


We love our stories more
than all the teas from God.
They fit like threadbare slippers

worn dark nights before
we nod. These dreams are all
that stand between sea level

and our weak-kneed legs.
We aren’t exactly chicken;
we really want the eggs.

~Son Rivers 2006

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