Ballad from a Torn Paper Plane

Feels Like Sunday, paper collage, 2021


hypnosis is forever
at noon, i hear the moon whistle
my eyes are covered in dandelions
i ask myself, how long have we 
been strangers?


this poem tells me 
i cannot laugh 
at what doesn’t exist

so i invent a butterfly
on my forehead
who takes the shape of the wind


after all, 
what’s the sun if you 
can’t catch it in a frying pan?

the last of many daisies
a fetish 
from a torn paper plane 

I’d like to take this opportunity to let you all know my Redbubble shop is open. I’ve got permanent links in the right sidebar, as well as an updated Collage page with a new portfolio. I’m still getting the hang of things, so my designs might continue to change a little. Regardless, I hope you’ll visit and enjoy.

15 thoughts on “Ballad from a Torn Paper Plane

  1. I really like your opening stanza. Also, the fourth stanza with “after all, what’s the sun if you
    can’t catch it in a frying pan?” I love what you’ve strung together…with hypnosis and strangers…and making things real, at least in our own mind…making what seems strange to us, fresh and new and awakened…well done, friend

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This poem is a fantastical delight and yet it feels more real than things which are supposed to be. If that makes sense.✨ Congrats about your shop! I bookmarked the page and will refer back to it. 👏🏼

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m happy you feel that way about the poem. I think the fantastical is sometimes more real than what’s supposed to be. And thank you for bookmarking my shop. 🙂 I always appreciate your encouragement and support.

      Liked by 1 person

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