Tuesday, January 13, 2004

 

Poetry dreams last night. I dreamt I was in some sort of high school forensics competition for extemporaneous speaking. There were two rounds, each dealing with different topics, which I won handily. The first was about "The Western Conception of the Desert Island," and the second was about "Language Poetry." The guy I was competing against was short, ginger-haired, and full of himself. He also knew nothing about desert islands or language poetry. Somehow, I was incredibly glib on both topics.

Then I dreamt that I was friends with Shelley (Percy Bysshe) and that he was acting like a total crackhead. Running into the middle of busy streets, yelling randomly, setting small fires. I told him he was hanging out with Lord Byron too much, and he got totally pissy.

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