Monday, August 31, 2009

five in the morning

I dream of shining fish in a murky river. Of collages in the radical magazines.

I dream of slender mysterious poems whose meanings are not found in the back of the book.

I dream of the face of God on the number 80 bus.

I dream of cool Septembers on the last day of August.

I dream of significant anniversaries and lavish expenditures.

I dream of poverty and unstinting charity.

I dream of waking up to a dark and quiet apartment. I dream of Adam's ale and the matutinal cup o' joe.

I dream of mirthful commonwealths where ebullience never ceases. I dream of distant sisters who learned how to rhyme with April.

I dream of vehement activists. I dream of civilization.

I dream of an eternal reward of hurtfully curative mercy.