Quote (December)

In my dream the most remarkable set of quotes is being collected. They drift into view and I copy-and-paste them, computer-like, into a box. Even in my dream I know that if I wake the quotes will prove childish, possibly meaningless, but that now they have only to be arranged right to form a stunning poem. The quotes are made not so much of words as colours, or unnamed extraordinary calligraphic shapes, or planes of perception. Some quotes are more a hot December day at Wye River before storm clouds; a face; an old movie. Frustrated arranging, I wake up.