Memory Sonnet: A Sonnet by Bill Hollands
A dream within a dream within a dream—
was that what it was like?
“If prose is a house, poetry is a man on fire running quite fast through it.”
—Anne Carson
A dream within a dream within a dream—
was that what it was like?
I exist / in a separate time. I am not sure it isn’t borrowed.
too often it’s remained true: a kiss may / ruin a human life
Because night, with its key-shaped teeth, opens me like a door.
See unsolved fragments sifting into place