The Dreamer, the Dream
After the sleeper has burst his night pod
climbed up out of its silky holdings
the dream must stumble alone now
must mope in the hard eye of morning
in search of some phantom outcome
while on both sides of the tissue
the dreamer walks into the weather
past time in September woods in the rain
where the butternuts settle around him
louder than tears and in fact he comes
upon great clusters of honey mushrooms
breaking the heart of old oak
a hundred caps grotesquely piggyback
on one another, a caramel mountain
all powdered with their white spores
printing themselves in no notebook
and all this they do in secret
climbing behind his back
lumbering from their dark fissure
going up like a dream going on.
Selected Poems 1960-1990
No comments:
Post a Comment