top of page
in and out the brackets.
slipping away awake and (and)
nearly asleep[pause]and now I can voice
those new perceptions, but just somehow-
somehow beyond my access - just,
out of reach. Touch keeps slipping (
the spring green and curling tunnelling spiralling
) away, and I am slipping away, slipping awake,
I am slipping awake.
The context.
The disorienting feeling when you are just about drifting off to sleep.
Your grasp on physical reality is slippery. Language seems irregular. Thoughts are fluid.
This poetry style is inspired by one of my favourite poets E. E. Cummings.
My collage pages.
bottom of page