© From many places, speaking truth and making magic happen


 






















Susan Seddon-Boulet, Artist

(snippet from a painting)



by Sunil Sharma  

Dreams

Dreams often turn like the leaves in autumn.

A fresh breath of wind drives them away

to some dark spot inside the clusters of bamboo/other wild trees

or carries them further onto a far-off strip of a pale-faced river

that gleams in the freckled light like a golden-colored serpent

ambling slowly on a highway to the horror of

a biker or motorist unused to such a sight!

Dreams die slowly

get buried quietly

and become unrecognized.


Feature Editor: Scott Thomas Outlar

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