Even While I Dream

15 Jun

“We must become ourselves before someone else does.”

     -Robert Hunter

 

Expeditionary force

very small fortified

posts.

 

Made a mental note

of a lousy war story

the morning time to read

things were all possible

on paper.

 

Experts were aiming

cannons at ruins

that had already

felt the cold hands

of civilization-

saying to

all the world-

take this.

 

Thinking about Babylon and other

places I could go to right now.

And, didn’t life begin with me

facing space-

nothing like traveling

to broaden the mind.

 

I was some guy.

You were some girl.

Who was that someone

hours later who knocked

on the door?

They never stayed long

enough like detectives

fleeing blank pages.

 

Childhood contents is

what I had asked her

opinion of, right?

He knew to look east

in the half light

of the cafe toward

his feet.

Inert shapes loomed

in the distance of

tomorrow.

 

Listening carefully

to tall tales of peg leg men

and ghosts in the evening

by lamp light.

 

I’m none of those.

 

Dried out,

washed up-

maybe?

 

I was laughing in the

end I was not that

smart, right?

 

Do you ever have time,

and so on.

 

There is always as much

noise as I like here.

 

I know I had to have had a

mother and father, and my

girlfriend mustard- my true

love with .38 caliber eyes.

 

Mother’s voice reading.

Father’s voice singing.

Sister laughing madly

in the soft rain falling.

 

My eyes shine

one wall

two, three, four

scared to pieces

easy rooms

everything in love,

and in the morning

again blank pages.

 

It knocks me in the head

like that stranger, now

banging on the door,

a man should never

be defined by the

horizon of the

rooms that make

up his life.

 

Like the egg cracking

against the pan- I

have known the fear

of frying. I’ve been

delirious with

melancholy just

collecting all

these

damnable

war stories

that make you

laugh, but

make me

feel slightly

less human.

 

Staring at my

feet of clay

trying to be

a hero,

a gentleman.

Yet looking out

at sea like a soldier

turned sailor

wondering

about the pelagic

nature of

love

and

everything

else.

 

 

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