Wave Standard Dreams

Dream waves strike the shore adding memories
ideas and visions in time that rent
hope apart and for itself together with each place
walked through the forests and nights
when passages in particular left the sounds behind

like classes of social dreams arranged together
the public sees in it’s objects pluses or minuses
proposed from M.B.A.s to allocate and distribute four four in C sharp
like the pointillist city put together by my friend the beautiful poet
struck down in her prime by mal-wear
these wonderful stanzas strolled alone and were carried over the sands
in winds of the evening breeze with oceanness
the sound was a roaring eternity that lasted through all the morrows
though they curled in and broke myriad maths into the landshore currents
so where is she now one wonders

No one cares about the blank verses and standard paragraphs
presumed by prose to launch a thousand lines advancing as rhymes
swift and determined so much so that they have formed
images of a burning hot sun in the desert sky
with millions of vultures and oil pumps, skeletons and S.U.V.s
black toxic smoke and choking sands at 100 dollars a barrel
to pollute the one blue atmosphere
something like a dream that changes it’s moods with colors
blushing sunrises orchestrated by a Chopin attacking the horizontal keyboard
fading into the beginning of solid color work
it becomes unnoticed until the fall rays light more vividly an Earth

So one cares about savings dreams and metaphors
flying away from nightfall and sin
away from the infinite worldliness that mumbled meaninglessness
urging for the angels to be released unto them
though the angels were traveling incognito
neat the city was racked up though there were at least two or three good people
the dreams turn this way and that while the eagle flies
beyond comedy shows and writers on strike
past real construction without song
no pomp for the peace envisioned
mountains unclimbed, borders unprotected and budgets unbalanced
who would ever have dreampt that God preexists dreams before thinking
somethings ashore and somethings offshore, some for now and some for later
ideas that are structured like material bridging through time to become
something like another poem to provide three-dimensional and more with colors
she could write, that beach, those waves that easily reach the highest mark gently surging.

-Gary C. Gibson 2007