‘You can’t do anything you can’t do,’
admonished the man in the dream,
so clearly that it woke me up
and prompted me
to turn on the light,
find a pen,
and write it down.
It was waiting there for me the next morning
on the nightstand.
A piece of paper
with the man in the dream’s words:
‘You can’t do anything you can’t do.’
And after two days of contemplation,
without knowing what else to do with it,
it occurred to me that perhaps the line
belongs more to a poem,
than to my nightstand.
‘You can’t do anything you can’t do,’
admonished the man in the dream.
So clearly.
I wrote Short Poem #5 about it too. Never has a single line in a dream been so clear. I remember nothing else about the dream. I’m not sure there even was anything else.
It meant something. I don’t know what yet. I just know that it meant something.
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
“It is futile,” I said.
“You can never —”
“You lie,” he cried,
And ran on.