Snapshot 20 April 02005

MP3 File

I receive a visitation in the night
from John Paul. He is throwing off
his white robes. He is tap-dancing
in ruby shoes. These mornings
are cold, the color of steel. Fresh
snow in the mountains, little petaled
suns in the flowerbeds. Friends ghost
up from history, emerging through mist
like special effects. Here is Richard
Greene, blood at his temple, pistol
still smoking in his hand and here
JFK, Bobby, Martin Luther King,
the famous and the intimate all lost
together. Terry Schiavo floats past
on a cloud of pale parakeets. Judd
places his hand on my head. Squirrels
are ravenous with spring, trees
filled with complicated song. Joan,
with the certainty of the spiritual,
tells me to take my time.

Comments

[Pearl]

Interesting, lively vision full of wonderful sounds

[Dave]

Great stuff.

[mjones]

Can't decide if it's worrisome, or hopeful. Hopeful, I think (hope).

[Elizabeth]

very nice. the image of john paul dancing will stick in my head for the rest of the day.