poetry by Dan Leicht (D.e.e.L)
and it kicks in. it’s meant to send me to sleep.
no matter the day, the hours, the work, the dreams are restless. they chatter when eyes are weak and mind is faded.
they speak to one another, the characters of stories unwritten.
they seem so confident. and yet the pen sits in the bottom of a bag full of books. books written by men and women vacant from this earth for years and years. their words are eternal.
and so at night the words of my own come tapping at my forehead. they slip out the pores and fill pages during random moments of the night. i’ll be dreaming of coffee and a ghost will pen the aroma.
my eyes drag at the pages, but the words carry on. and soon the sheets grab hold of me, and quickly i’m back to sleep — dreaming of what to write next.
Dan Leicht – Sept 2014