Storm dream

Storm Dream
16 June 2015 (edited 13 July 2015) -- NYC

A dream of storms and emperors
of storks and silence,
a fury that advances no reason,
a shoal of sand instead of sharks

-- a wailing of mudthought, a
mincemeat of assaulted
conscience. And hourlong figure in the
waves, beckoning -- a glassy-eyed
doe feeding on chicory.

An ill-fed man wandering toward the
breadcellar, a tourist tossing a
coin into the wellspring
of eternal blessing.

These things are not our fathers,
mothers -- they are not our symbolism,
our fatigue, our interests. They
are, really, us -- our hearts and minds,
displayed in catacombs and webs of thoughts

they are really us.