in “The Sleepers,” whitman says:
I go from bedside to bedside, I sleep close with the other sleepers each in turn,
I dream in my dream all the dreams of the other dreamers,
And I become the other dreamers.
tonight as i sit in an empty room listening to sounds come in through an open window, i think of his words. sometimes i would like to forget him, become practical, solve problems and such, but i find that the human situation crowds my thoughts so that i seldom travel far without returning, especially tonight i’m feeling detached from my own consciousness and am wandering in other thought systems—i am entering dream constellation as an explorer and am not certain what i am finding.
to be a poet is to create in the dreams of others.
tonight as i sit in an empty room listening to sounds come in through an open window, i think of his words. sometimes i would like to forget him, become practical, solve problems and such, but i find that the human situation crowds my thoughts so that i seldom travel far without returning, especially tonight i’m feeling detached from my own consciousness and am wandering in other thought systems—i am entering dream constellation as an explorer and am not certain what i am finding.
to be a poet is to create in the dreams of others.
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