poem of the day April 20

Motel hotel dreams

strange out of place

figments every night

New rooms

New dreams

living in old beds

Are they left over

from other souls

who rested their heads

on the same pillow

Are they born in a traveler's womb

then given life inside each passing stranger

Do these sub dreams linger

like vapers of the arcane 

Currents of hallucinations

that travel the open road

with a suitcase full of nightmares and fantasies 

waiting for a fresh soul to give them life