28)

god if i could only remember my dreams
instead of smudged half-assed images
i awake and remember only feelings
like the other night dreaming of hanging with
jh in sf
i don’t know what we did or how we did it
upon waking images faded like sun-bleached polaroids
but the after-feeling was utter pleasure
maybe that’s all that matters
what do i know anyway for i am an adept only
in the art of sitting on my butt and doing nothing
i do it real good
i write it like disaster
it really isn’t hard to master