Sunday, May 1, 2016
A Rippled Nightmare (Lima, Peru, in the wee hours of 4-24-2016)
A Rippled Nightmare
(Lima, Peru, in the wee hours of 4-24-2016)
For a full moon yesternight, the moon gave the musterseed sun a full tilt (it was shattered bright)
The Sandgrain sky of Lima, today, is doing as always, conjured by the ocean’s waves, in the whack of the wind
Its cold tongue tolls its bell, in this prickly down fall.
The claw tracks of the cat, as well as the vultures, condors, crows, sparrows and rats, seize the sky, and the Rimac!
The livelong river, carrying only minnows, drained from its farfetched fish.
This night, there were but two falling stars, steered to some blind cage covered by unbolted mist
hammered into the dark matter of space.
Now light is so long away (its 11:12 p.m.)
I pray my dreams will not bring as it did last night
—bring, the bones out of the hills to haunt me!
My nightmare made my brain into turnturtle dust. I woke up with a cavernous face my wife quaking for me, for calm!
#5176 / 4-24-2016