Day: July 22, 2019

  • names vanished from the map

     

    halo_pano_beletsky

    1. Umpachene Falls

    i climbed down rocks in a dream.
    first light was gone
    and it was getting close to noon,
    a bird sang an ancient tune.
    just as it used to do, the waterfall's voice imitated
    a moon guitar.  i looked in the rippling mirror,
    dreamed until midnight,
    and i left my five-year-old son there.
    i pushed the map
    to the east--a horizon as distant
    as the sky.  the jagged edges
    of the moon had been gnawed sharp
    by longing and sorrow.

    2. World's End

    it is such a long way to the end of my world.
    dreams walk on the ground, then board a boat
    and surge to the east. in late autumn,
    huge volumes of refugee tears
    flecked with foam leave imprints
    on the ocean tides, and a length of flame
    as swift as a foal paves a path for a chilly ferry--
    so goes the dream...
    a white egret
    spreads its wings and flies away..
    it only looks back once

    3. Hartsville Mountain

    at first a bird comes shrieking across the way.
    something with wings brushes past
    the corner of the house and that white horse
    of daybreak majestically bursts into the room,
    freeing the imprisoned sun.
    it says, even in my dreams it hurts
    to breathe.
     i know that
    even if it could lose its wings
    the sky could not bear another dream.
    the daylight passing through a dark night
    calls to me

    4. Father

    left hand pressing the window,
    a moon like a chunk of ice floats
    in a night full of dreams like memories
    the barking of tracking dogs gets closer
    and there you are, looking in the mirror
    where you are already a great grandfather.
    you call me in my dream by my childhood name
    and embrace me under
    the Tree of No Sorrows
    time is right behind you, dogging your heels
    you smile one last time and point to the moon
    "that halo around the moon
    is caused by dreaming too much.."
    you stand guard at the pass
    and direct me back to the present
    back to these lonely leaves
    that flap in the wind

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