O triple sob -- turned forty at midnight -- body at dawn booze-soddened but hopeful, knowing that the only thing to remember is dreams. Dead clear zero, Sunday afternoon in an attic of a closed resort on Lake Michigan with one lone duck riding the diminishing swells of yesterday's storm against the snowy cliffs of North Manitou: Whom are we to love? How many and what for? My heart's gone to sea for years. This is a prayer, plaint, wish, howl of void beneath breastbone. Dreams, soul chasers, bring back my heart alive. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SMOKING SPIRITUALIZED by RALPH ERSKINE SONNET: 87 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ANDRE'S LAST REQUEST [OR, REQUEST TO WASHINGTON] [OCTOBER 1, 1780] by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS THE RAZOR-SELLER by JOHN WOLCOTT A SONNET. OF LOVE by PHILIP AYRES ABANDON by LORENE BYRNES BURNS |