Falconers Dream

Falconer’s Dream

A      At the waist of the man sleeping twisted

         veils a midriff of dreams. This dream –

         Nose to the metal, butt to the stars,

         stopped at a fork in the road in his car

         Draped over the driver’s window,

         the sound of a carnivore

Falconer labors

         Under the day's doing

         writing on our heart

         enlightens our eyes

B      Her quiet mind drifts.  In her ear

         curls a nautilus of dreams

         She sleepwalks now, opens the package

         of a day: the scent of magnolia,

         and his tenderness left spread on the bed

         By the coffee a coupon says

         his ocean ever goes on

Falconer labors

         Under the day’s doing

         subdoing, undoing

         underlying undertakings

C      On the feet of the walker stopped waking

         binds the blonde hide of dreams

         Naked, scampering by Missildine's big window glass

         he darts seeking shoes and a hank

         Of cloth to cover his pale parts.

Falconer's labors tail off. 

            Tonight, ten thousand souls dream