Dreams

My daddy lived on selling dreams behind the plexiglass "next" booth at the Horse Track. He lived the dream, in summer he'd be at the Coal Creek Canyon cabin, in winter they'd pack it up and follow the circuit to Hot Springs, Arkansas.

My step-mother was one of those rare earth-guides. She brought me great solace.

My mother lived on keeping people alive. She was in charge of the labs for the county area. I suppose she preserved dreams, help create more dreams, and certainly kept many dreams alive in that small town.

Her dreams were also in a very rare form. They came in the essence of my half-sister. This was a lifelong struggle of a dream, but it was headed to Wellesley on a full scholarship. Dressed in her finest, the dream-on-scholarship was rolling away on the rail train.

It's easier to invent the dream when it's away.

Shadows show up every where.

Beware of invisibility.

- 30 -

art 9/16/2011

poem

I will miss
Cricket symphony
Taccata and Fugue
Evening murmuring
Howls of hounds
startle geese calling out,
ensuring mate is safe

Winds sings through pine
Trees tell delicate stories
Of bird families held,
nurtured, let go to
Autumn's call

Slight breezes sip upon my
Skin, like puppies blindly
nuzzling for mothers' milk
Calls of silent aching

Last embers of fire smolder
to remind that danger
passed so closely Yet
Spared the predator
No fire too close
No smoke too far

Sleeping ducks alert
The ponds chill and wings
slip to their sides as
Graceful ancient water ballet
Keep safe the delicate dreams

No fear. No drowning
All buoyant and sacred
The moon casts strong
shadows now high
In the heavens

Chickens roost near our
doorways. Heads tucked
into feathered warmth
Familiar as mother hen body
kept chicks warm in safe
sanctions. Only rooster
Awakens to check on mates
Sleep and once again

Crickets lull the illusion
Of summer safety and danger
I will miss warm reminders
I gather the fleece close to
my naked skin.

Dog approaches
To tell me. The season for
Sitting in warmth and
Summer comfort draws
near as the last moth
Circles evening spotlight

I glow with the gifts
Change but elusive. I am
Certain to feel this
Again in the evening

I will miss nothing but
Cricket serenade in
Sonatas
The chorus heard
In another time. Another
World. Another summer night
Ahead of my motion

Enjoy. Change so dear
That the world holds it
Constant. No chaos tonight

Ducks murmur
Geese call
Chickens roost
Breeze touches
Skin cells continue this
Glory
Change

September 25, 2010
12:31am

Needles in the Black Hills

Ah, but I digress ...