After crushing
the rancid peanutbutter
sandwich cookies.
I completed
setting a mousetrap
called
The Frightened Nun.
Then I see a man
ice skating
on two pontoons
filled with hydrogen
sailing across
the interior
of a large warehouse.
As I awaken
I'm overcome
by the complexity
of the sculptured mousetrap
and the simplicity
of setting it
and wonder
if such a thing
would make my fortune
in this world.
Such fortunes await dreamers
who float through sleep
making better mousetraps.
(mp3 file of Barry G Wick reading this poem)
copyright 2006 by Barry G. Wick
A Poetics of Cold
6 years ago
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