The Dream, by Tzvi Freeman

[Minna]

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[Virginia]

I really liked this piece.
Thank you.

[Minna]

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[panama]

this could have been a little better, anyways a great effort! keep ip up! and keep writing!
thats the only way to improve!

[Minna]

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[danny]

"Written in 2006 and 2007 while building a small house in a village in northern Spain, these poems are the tracks of a person who became me. Apart from the house itself, they are pretty much all that remains of him. A lot of books have been written about how to build a house; this one is about how a house built me, and I'm writing down the poems in clear for the sake of anyone who might be interested in how that transformation took place – most of all, for my friends, including, of course, those who helped build Snail Cabin." - Robert Alcock


(1)They ploughed the soil with money

They ploughed the soil with money
so that no trace remain
of voices in a story
of echoes on a stone

(2) City

Today's city is a marvellously efficient
heat exchanger that sucks out souls,
replacing them with an ichor brewed
from petrol, cold and electronic money.

Try to travel through a city
with any but the minimum of baggage
and you get caught for seven years
or until your soul is gone
and you support the football team.