Thursday, 1 May 2008

Cloud Atlas by Kate Burrows

It’s dusty, this almanac of dreams.
Yellowed pages crinkle under the weight of
shape shifters swords
and seraphim inhabit the same page
before unicorns but long after
castles and labyrinths.
Spring grass against our warm bodies,
see my daydream dance before the world.
My mother morphs into my lost dog
then just his tail remains which sticks to
the letter A, making it A-tail.

Book of liminality it taunts us unreachable
from a cloudless canvas.
Nothing to be written on blue skies
devoid of white ink
missing dancing hippos and princesses cavorting
until the fairy dust again returns,
creating new pages in a compendium of better worlds.

Kate Burrows, New Jersey, USA


Crafty Green Poet said...

Kate Burrows is a graduate student in sociology and writes poetry to break the boredom of academic reading and writing. She shares creative space with Deb Scott
at Stoney Moss.

Pam said...

What wonderful childhood images! I can see her lying in the grass with her mother and dreaming of all these wonderful fairy tales.

Dale said...


Anonymous said...

you created such a wonderful, dreamland.