November 14, 2011
I watched his hands grab at the clouds,
holly boughs around his head.
Long legs kicked a fog of sand-
the land
s p r e a d o u t

before us.
We once had known
The simpler song
Every word and every tune
Call it blues, and I would laugh-
there are no blues but sheep and giraffes
parading, they invade my dreams
(Where he is him and I am me)
but in my dream we all can be
he sees me- fog meets the air
mixing with my thoughts up there
that floated up before we met
captured and I can’t get back

then the flash of grays and whites
and dark resists its natural lights
the animals all circle round

-but only me-
they let him free.

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