I’m dreaming about the man in the field
its autumn backdrop oddly out of place
with the spring cacophony
that filters through my nighttime window;
he’s talking about collective trauma —
the seeping-in of our wild world
on jet streams and ethernets
on brainwaves and internets —
a scrolling litany of the everything
we were not built to absorb
and the everything against which
we are powerless;
a continental, monumental shift
beneath our feet
in a landslide brought me down
epic crescendo sort of way
I’m sure Stevie never imagined.
Poem ©2026 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now at my Etsy Shop.
randomactsofwriting.net 