|I Dreamt A Land Porpoise
in a small collection of water
was a beast beyond imagination.
two black agates of eyes flanked his head,
and two curious holes opened up on his shiny thick clear slipcover
he was small iguess. small anyway for a porpoise.
smaller than the dog.
where the water ended the cement began,
but the image was small.
and, the tarmac bled into starchy, plain vanilla-white.
arent’s night visions fleeting? at least un-whole?
he had the faintest smile, as dolphins might.
(as if a joke were know, but not to be told)
no, no, now he was altogether too hard to discern-
like rain, one drop from another,
like a water’s edge.
it’s said that time heals,
but as I woke from an ocean of sleep -
wherefrom moments and spectables whish and churn us
up and over - time hurt.
into whatever vessel holds these moments, those spectacles
all went and fast,
leaving me still and bereft of my will to remember,
with an image of a puddle
and a poodle of a porpoise.