Like smoke, some of our energy darkens the sky. Sooty stack of America’s ship, emblem carried above rusting hull, casting about oceans without harbor. Unwelcome, the fouled air. Unneeded, the roiled waters. Listing to starboard, she plows on, her crew eyeing lifeboats, her captain holding course.
I dreamed of a place without fences and the women and the trout swam free and sheep safely grazed under the watchful eyes of wolves and I dreamed red maples bled syrup on platoons’ pancakes and farm wives with rolling pins and blue aprons ruled the waves. I dreamed you were a wading bird with an appetite just the size of my pale crustacean body and mind as I swam between your legs and back without caution and I dreamed of the hills only the blind can see and I tasted frost-bit apples from the broken tree of good and evil. In the dark, I dreamed of the dark. I dreamed of hell but there were no fires. In fact, it was raining cold rain. I dreamed of hell and there were armies shipping home trinkets and the slain. And in this hell of a dream there were papers to be filed, there was nowhere to walk, and no one was ever on time. I dreamed of hell and you were not there and no one helped carry the pain.
Ralph Murre is the author of "Crude Red Boat" and "The Price of Gravity, both books of poetry; author and illustrator of "Psalms", a book of poetry and art, co-author, (with Sharon Auberle)of "Wind Where Music Was", a book of poems of experience, and he is editor/publisher of several books of prose, poetry, photography, and drawings from Little Eagle Press, which he founded. Ordering information for these books is available from
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