Remnants of my Saturday Morning Dream The old victorian houseis perfectly ricketycontent in the stateof itself shifted andunevened over time In the streets around herpanic – human mayhemworse than termites in woodor bees behind a wallyet the same in theirbuzzing destructionto exist In the sky – translucentblack orbs floating toconcrete and mudthe stepping out ofholograms… Continue reading Poem 10 – Remnants of my Saturday Morning Dream