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Jan 2015
He lives in his farm house by the hills, his
quiet life of contentment, seeking, creating,
discovering; Oh he’s a scientist, and
he grafts his poem trees; Beautiful plumes do
they grow for flowers, which fly out eastward
every morning; Well now he does, the sweet
fruit of these: eat poems to live? Silencing
those who asked him once. Oh and some of the
plants can talk: beyond our hearing, ultrasound.
Penetrating objects our eyes otherwise.
see not: stones; metals; oh don’t we carry
venoms of hatred in metal tubes of
veins crossing our hearts, conveying darkness
across the seas? These poem trees, talking, can
see through. And tell, when some leaks out, causing
fires, and deaths in a school or train station.
Quiet life of contentment, seeking, creating,
discovering; Living in his farm house
by the hills. His work at
Dream resume is a surrealist technique where the protogonist's 'achievements' in the lucid-reality world of dreams are revealed, mixing elements of the real with the surreal.

I owe the word construction 'poem trees' to my wonderful twitter friend Sheri Lynn Pritchett, @poemtrees
Prabhu Iyer
Written by
Prabhu Iyer  Quantum Dot
(Quantum Dot)   
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