This poem is a mash-up of bits and pieces from a long list of prompts I’ve collected in my writing journal. Nothing profound, just something fun I tossed off Saturday morning.
listening to the voices in the cracked
red bowl while you were lost
I could not sleep — bowlegged dreams
follow the grain of indolent beliefs and discarded
remainders of ideas in a dark time
use your favorite letter traveling alone
without leaving home out of fear
I could not sleep — growing in an old place
as if seeing it for the first time
a scrawl of words in the background
The Daily Compost 
Nice. A little abstract. Kinda edgy. (I like abstract. I like edgy.)
Thank you! Sometimes interesting things happen when one fiddles around with words without any particular purpose. (And sometimes not.) Thanks for stopping by and commenting.