Tag: dreams

Field of Dreams

Broken bicycle a
clear compound
fracture
of the spine
whiskers of rust
a twilight shadow
along its lines
barely visible in
what once was a
field of dreams
does its long time
best friend ever think
of it on warm June
afternoons?

Thursday Thinking

What I dreamed so long ago I scant recall
An archaeologist exhuming pyramids
from the sands of Egypt was one
Abandoned somewhere trail side
on the uncertain path to adulthood
and the obligatory rock star fable
held sway for a time
Bass in hand
heading for the promised land
of fame and fortune and writing
songs with McCartney but I wasn’t
set up for that sacrifice
It wasn’t in my blood just
the passing plaything of
a teenage mind
and I ended up

Here

With the rest of those wandering souls
who make no particular choices as to
how to spend a life
Employed for a suitable dowry
A house
Car
Close ties to a
financial institution
with more checks than balances
floating around
wondering

Always wondering
if it’s too late
to re-write dreams that were
allowed to escape or to create
new ones to carry you through
to the end
knowing now
what wasn’t known then

that you will not pass this way again

Dilemma

I have a
chimera chained
in the basement.
It refuses to eat
until every living
soul on earth
is free.
I once dreamed
of being an
archaeologist
in Egypt
until I discovered
my disdain for
the heat.
Some things
defy completion,
even on sunny
Wednesdays.

Flight of Fancy

There was a swing at the park. Long, heavy chains, worn plank seat, a rutted gouge in the earth from a thousand dreams hastily halted by the call to dinner, and wrapped in October I would swing, fearless, the chain rattling and yielding as I willed myself higher and higher and I would have flown away if I could. The youthful sky begged me to come, to join the birds, I know it did. I saw its outstretched arms, the sun smiling encouragement at the apex of every heavenward thrust. But my wings never grew. That swing was as close as I’ve ever been.

No Map Required

For much
of adolescence
my destiny was
archaeology,
embracing a
certainty
that I would
traverse
undulating
blankets
of desert sand
reading
ancient scrolls,
reclaiming
lost pyramids,
and mummies,
and hordes
of gold
but now,
old . . . “er,”
I’m content
seeking
odd
little
stones
from creek beds,
treasure
redefined
by
time