Last night I drempt that I was working on this blogs layout. ‘Interesting.’ I thought as I was writing in HTML fluidly, immediately I surmised that I was dreaming and I stepped away from the computer into a long hall where there were no doors but it was so wide that the contents of rooms were laid out bare to be seen by all who passed. I searched awhile looking for the right dream to be in but ended up awake having to use the bathroom.
This is an older poem, one of my long time favorites. Written after buying a kitsch African made pen as a gift.
short-form
this pen made in Japan,
this paper in Italy.
these thoughts from Africa,
these hands from Spain.
I was born with knowledge,
baptized a Lutheran.
yesterday I was an African Tribal Priest;
this morning I am an American Buddhist.
these are my interracial writings –
give love to all my brothers and sisters.
– I wrote this
the platitudes of willful resemblance 
say something