Daily Archives: December 13, 2016

Dreams For Surviving The Apocalypse

Dreamed I stole 
an exquisitely tattooed horse —
a dappled palomino inked
to resemble Belleek china — 
saddled it and rode it expertly
from the city of Worcester north
to the city of Fitchburg
and arrived at a coffeehouse
which was somehow
attached to a stable
empty but for old straw and
an ancient radio tuned
to play only the songs
it played when it was new,
to which the horse and I 
performed dressage and
poetry for no one as
the coffee house had closed
hours before, leaving me
to realize at the end
that I had miles to ride
down unlit roads
and had forgotten
all the expertise I had used
to dream my way there.

Dreamed I carried 
a lucky coin stamped
with a face I could not name;
although a name floated
upon my tongue
whenever I rubbed the coin
between my fingers
in my pocket, I knew
that either it was
the wrong name,
or it was
the right name and 
once I pronounced it,
the face on the coin
would change.

Dreamed of standing
by an unlit roadside — 
the road south,
the road home.
No horse to ride,
no knowledge
of how to ride.
No jukebox
in which to plug
my lucky coin for
a proper song to make it


First step home,
taken in silence.

Second step home,
an unaccompanied dance.

Third step?

Currently, all I have
is a dream of riding
a decorated horse
as far as it is willing to go.