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Writing the dream





Enter fire. 
Enter wind, 
the dust snatcher. 
Enter earth that unwinds   
along rivers of hot sand. Enter  
hourless shadows that circle scrub, 
Enter insect that walks under  shield,   
enter the words that say nothing but, 
"this is, that was, there will be more and less." 
  
Enter sun bite. 
Enter flame lick. 
Enter flick of dark fly. 
Enter first moon, white gashed 
from dung sky. Write black charcoal,  
write white ash from log of long gone. 
Spell hoof drum from silence of sand.   
Enter donkey neighing towards  sun after sun,  
that kicks over world and drives it in and far on. 
  
Enter the fire that sings from its' coals. 
Enter cartwheel of child, live with smiles. 
Enter the name trick, everyone swapping who they are 
for someone else. Enter the unmentionable dead who visit 
with absence and bring future, from further back  than  ever was.   
Enter gap sliced from net holes in sister danced sky, by the strange fish  
of hot ponds. Enter wind's embryos, whose liithe fingers  curl of  leaf and grit. 
  
Enter all and rub wind's dry eyes. Gather up, prickles, salt bush, "Shsh " 
of hot air, that sifts off sleeves of plastic grease. Enter thumb of termite  
mound that presses through a rotting tire. Enter land, enter tract, enter text  
of promises and contracts this world won't spell and cannot be read. Enter ground. 
  
They each must enter,  
as we enter  
them. 
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