Poured from a word bottle
Or decanted from a
Morning of dew
Or dipped with silver nets
From streams of golden fish
Or distilled from
The last star’s shining
Before dawn
But rather
Blocked piece by piece
Fragment by fragment,
A mosaic of
Half-remembered dreams
A tapestry of forgotten imaginings
And a weaving of
Lost desires.
Dan Verner
April 5, 2017
Biscuit City 