This is no country for an uneasy dream
By text and phone we keep in constant touch
No marginal change of luck
No shifting of the figures
Not even a scratch on the car
Will go unheralded for an hour.
This is the dreamless land, we know its name
Not even a village of the soon-to-be-dead
Or a culverted stream has not been mapped
The problems are all cracked
So when the dreams invade the dreamless land
We find another name for them and spin
A comfortable definition and turn
To the selected music for a while
Outside is a sham
Where the dreams walk and sing.
There we go – the dreams are invading the dreamless land again! Call the Police! As I said under “Impressions”, I found one poem didn’t exhaust that phrase.