Disappearing Dreams and AK-47 Daydreams
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Forgetting most, he searches in between
His dreams and in between his other dreams,
His daydreams. Dreams are more like toluene
For him. They flee. Psychiatry’s keen fleams
Cannot bring colors that have disappeared,
Not even if they come from darkness, coal,
Petroleum or Hades. If Freud peered

Himself, this patient’s mind could not unscroll
The nightmare shriveled penis fears that if
This man has had…they’re gone as if they went
To nowhere’s nowhere. They are like a whiff
Of nothingness, blank ghosts that left no scent.
The daydreams, though, have teeth made up of suns
And semen, too, as powerful as guns.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Jan 31, 2025 | FR, SI |