not even a sentence but only a fragment of one
of my imaginations I choose the one I see
in the cup of coffee the cream spreads
my thoughts have become fractally messy
here is the idea I was chasing around
and around me there is the light
of dawn I dare not dream of
memories won’t remain
here, writing a poem or
to excise line length
from sleep I awaken
down to earth in a long spiraling sentence and another one.
Short.