Bedroom

BEDROOM

On my bedroom wall
Something wild sleeps
On a fallen, decaying tree.
This wild thing sleeps
Even when the noise
From a block party
Makes the dead beg for silence.
The wild thing
Once when awake
Found no where
In any dance or song
Is there a dance or song.
The wild thing sleeps
All day and all night.
The wild thing doesn't dream,
For there is no use
Dreaming about what will never be.
The wild thing sleeps
And does not dream as do the dead.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Alien Flower