this is my surrealist stream-of-consciousness poem.

swimming in cigarette sheets
Flemish French drifting out of dreams
tongues I speak and comprehend but only in and out of
consciousness
sleep is death is cotton sweet
fields flat blurring like floating snow
picket fence spans into oblivion
the tunnel between here and there
here and there
there's no between
sugar is memory

fyi, im not making any serious endeavors into poetry writing!