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Sleep - A Thought Provoked by Liz Crow Continuing Bedding Out / 10 March 2013

When I used to practice writing with a passion, strong and heavy into the night I would wake up with sentences being formed in front of my eyes rather than dream in sound or in vision. It still happens sometimes. It happened again recently. The words appeared. They took poetic form. I woke up and they were gone. I let them run away, escape me. Then that Dawn Willis started a facebook page, Bedding Out Live  a promotion of a Liz Crow performance. I began to contribute and as I did remembrance of the lost words returned. I was sleeping. I was waking. Words instead of dreams. What were they? I cannot even now remember and perhaps I never will but in searching Sleep appeared and formed as follows:
My bed takes me
these days
cold and shivery
returning me
later
hot and sweaty
with life

trying to type
a poem in my head
that I haven’t
as yet learned
to capture
on waking

forgotten
in days
returning
at night
haunting
a ghostlike repetition
and me (again)
barely
human

What was it that you said?
What was it that you felt?
What could I do to help you?
Why do I walk away?

Questions
Memory finds
whilst sleeping
imprisoned in the snuggle safe
chain of duvet
remorse behind bars
in Pillowdown Town