The Dream

           Oh will they watch me
            hover up the stairs
          to catch the light of
            yonder firefly

                  I feel drawn to wheat fields outside
                    calling me strands of silk in the wind
                     with beautiful dun grass gliding
                       o'er sweet arid plains
         
          Oh will they catch me
           climbing up the stairs
          investigate the case of
            yonder butterfly

                  OH luxury ocean breeze
                   magic tramp dust in sheets
                     metal grinning silos
                      my the sea here is wonderful

             Oh where have all the flowers gone
              oh where have all the roses flown
             there is no breeze in october
              do i imagine these sunsets?

                     cramped hands over a keyboard
                      clicking flinching little fingers
                          bit of dying
                       an old greek rape in the sun
 
            there is Monte Cristo outside and the Isle du Marche
                      a young french winter kept
                        seeds of yesterday silent
                      and all dreams of the Rienne
                       died in Parisian sewers
                  quiet
                       oh did Baudelaire show you refrains
                            of his new epic cycle
                          dreaming of Trismagistus
                            on wild skiffs in the river
                       
                            oh did grey sun beat o'er Charlemagne
                          as he crosses the river Styx into disneyland
                              did horrors beset him as did I
                                and fear be cloaked in gentle guise
                         
                             one thousand year later, and his seed is in parks
                                great parks, big parks, small parks, all parks
                              french parks, polish parks, Irish parks, Southern parks
                                   on dreaming in Antwerps forgotten corner

                       oh I departed for fear of the heat
                          and fled to dunner pasture
                          oh i can now catch a better glimpse
                             of yonder angelfly
i water plants for money
am gardener creature
in tumultuous pasture oh

                               
                     on dying in three dollar heat