11 March 2011

Haiku 2011/70 (plus a random dream)

just touching the door –
fingertips on the doorframe –
a leaf, drifting down

So here’s part of last night’s dream: I was talking to my friend Arby, and we seemed to be in San Francisco, even though he hasn’t lived there in years, but there were very steep hills and Victorian architecture, including an extremely beautiful mosque that was half Victorian gingerbread and half Islamic arabesques. It was made out of wood and brightly colored. (It was not a building that really exists in the world.) I told him that the book I had contained a poem by Horace I wanted to show him. I kept flipping through the pages, seeing many different photographs (usually spare and sort of abstract, with an occasional cat the only living thing in them), and I kept looking for the poem because I knew the version I remembered was incorrect. I remembered it as:

– Horace

which sounded wrong to me.

Finally I found it. It read:

– Horace

And I told Arby that the sentiment if not the style seemed like Horace. Then I woke up, trying to figure out where I was.

1 comment:

John Marcher said...

More of these, please.