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Well.
It's not like I didn't have five million things to do (though I did check off a few things on my before-I-leave-for-three-weeks list today, including fair entries), but who am I to turn down a specific request to be part of a small college poetry journal's yearly contest?
I am nobody. So I'm printing out a whole bunch to try and pick three for a non-genre audience, despite the redoubtable strength of my genre poetry as opposed to the others. From noncommentable to occasionally interesting, basically.
Therefore, I subject you to the unique torture that is your share in my life.
Stone Man Dreams
I dream of wings
I dream them dark and wide and mournful
Filled with black wind to stretch skyward
I dream of flight
I dream it fierce and cold and lofty
Broken by my wings in beat with night
Who can make my dream come alive?
Who can reach into my deep mind
And turn me to a heart beating the sky?
I dream
I dream wings
I dream of dawn
I dream it deep, and rich, and golden
An overflow of light to make mark in
I dream of day
I dream it open, airy, clear with hope
Coming over strong out of darkness
Who can pull me through to dawnbreak?
Who has hand broad to catch lost soul
That wanders wingless in a moonless time?
I dream
I dream dawn
I dream of blood
I dream it full and warm and flowing
Bearing every sign of mortal life
I dream of flesh
I dream it bone and heart and water
Moving with the will of spirit bound
Who can make my dream turn real now?
Who can put body together
With a consciousness of cold, with lack of sight?
I dream
I dream blood
I dream of breath
I dream it stilled to rise again
Holding to a tide that will not die
I dream of song
I dream it speaking, throaty, boundless
Unchaining thought to birth attention
Who can fill me with this life-wind?
Who can put their words inside me
Giving speech to long-locked thoughts and memory?
I dream
I dream breath
And I will breathe...
It's long.
