January 9th 2016

If I go outside, walk by the roadside, I fall back in love with the experience of living. I can almost put out of my mind the horrific cruelties inflicted by humans. I wonder if the kind of world I want to live in will ever be possible, but I visit such places in my dreams—like memories. They’re beautiful and I always have the feeling of returning to something elusively familiar. I vividly remember these dreams. I remember an open stone square with beautiful buildings, like the Louvre, on two sides. Behind the buildings was an ocean and a broad stone terrace with tables and chairs. They were full of people looking over the ocean, sipping drinks, enjoying the beautiful sunlight. As I walked diagonally through the stone square a flock of paper, origami birds dipped and cartwheeled around me before flying over the ridge of the nearest rooftop. All of it was familiar—the impossibly living birds, the balloons, the tables and their colorful umbrellas.

·

waking
····from dreams—snow trails the falling
················moon

·

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64: January 9th 2016 | bottlecap

4 responses

  1. Not an ocean/beach person myself; I leave the worship of water to My Beloved Sandra. But I suppose I could tolerate the odd dream of sand & surf as long as I could awake here, up on Telfer Hill, gazing down at the Green Mountain village-dwellers. I guess if I need to swim I could walk down to Crystal or drive on over to Willoughby.

    • It wasn’t even the ocean, just the calm, the beauty and the happiness the suffused everything. I don’t remember anyone swimming, just the beauty of the blue waters, of everything. Every time I visit up by Grand Isle and North Hero, I think I could happily move and live there. That stretch of Rte 2 that crosses over to South Hero is among the most beautiful, in my book, of any stretch in the world.

  2. This poem is amazing! I’m with you comrade. I also dream of such a world. It hurts me when I think about it though because I can’t help feeling it’s impossible outside of my mind.

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