people sometimes tell me that i've been in their dream that night. nothing strange about that. most of the time i've done quite normal dream-things like dying. once a young university student i hardly knew told me that i had declared the death of sexuality. she found that really funny. now for the first time i've crossed the atlantic, & have a cool poem to show for it. i reproduce it here with the permission of Adam Fieled, whose poem it is & whose dream it was i raided a couple of nights ago

LARS PALM DREAM

I was staying in
a dorm room with
Lars Palm, who
was throwing
lobsters. A yellow
globule tried to
get our goat; a
wall started talking.
Lars was furious.
Some girls were
involved with us,
as junk piled up.
Lars threw a
lobster at the
yellow globule,
roaring. It was a
pivotal moment--
we moved out, on--
bare walls. Rubbish
heap. Fuck you, globule.