Dreams

The Proprietor of Dreams

I ride with my horse unsaddled
Onto the field of battle, wondering
Who is the proprietor of my dreams
Is it the moon, corrupted by trees
Whose branches reach up and up

To caress it. This usurper of the sun
That once witnessed two towers fall
Those ineffectual elements
Each rock is eroded by its sister, the sea
These are the songs all children sing

As our ghosts depart to join the ancestors
'We'll be back one day,' we cackle
Others sway to the wind's aerobics class
I drift with the river instead
Grey waves, grey waves, they greet us

We are oh so theatrical. A world away
From soft rugs and eiderdowns
I encounter my own impossibilities
My God, how they laughed
Our lives like jelly congeal

And we pour blue blood
Over the red of some pauper
I tried to die countless times
But I was always dragged back
By the stench of that trench.