Horsetail, parrotfeather,
Papyrus, angles, directions
Pinioned under algae, clouds,
Summer stars.
Where we are:
Compass seeks north or
Closest bars in an
Iron cage, but this is
An age of dreams.
A compass dreamed
Seeks a dreamed north,
A course imagined
Where thought gathers
Before dawn, our
Best bearing --
A path to take.
Where dream and reality
Coincide, we wake.
I suspect this is another one of yours that has a history. I'd like to know about its sources, just as we go through memories and imaginings here.
ReplyDeleteHi Will!
ReplyDeletePoem assembled from notes taken near the end of another century, one in which we both tenured --you 12 years longer than I-- where 2010 was an Arthur Clarke title. We have memory and imagination but I don't think they compose a coincidence with reality just yet. There's hope, if each pays attention to what other dreamers think, but there's a ways to go yet or I miss my guess.
Geo.
Beautiful as usual, Geo. I answered your comment as a 2nd in same blog. Thank You again for your amazing poetry. Annie B.
ReplyDelete