Dream of Wheels and Lights
Bells clang in the night. The lamp post belted
by mist offers little comfort. A stone’s
toss away junipers curved like melted
spoons shudder silently. There are no phones
in this place. A thought sneaks into your mind
quietly, like a straw piercing the oak’s
armor in a bad wind. You turn and grind
the thought with your heel. A wheel rolls by, spokes
flashing like scythes. Crouching by a puddle
a man studies his face. He looks at you
and cries: “All I want is to be subtle.”
You think you know him, but you’re not sure who
he used to be. You throw a rock and shout
at him. The wheel slows and the light burns out.
Originally published in Amelia, in 1985, and posted here in March 2015. I remember writing this, but it still puzzles me.
O at the Edges 
Feels kind of spoken word in its rhythm, and with your usual canted observations. Reminds me of the State Fair when I used to drink. ☺
LikeLiked by 2 people
The rhyme scheme and syllable count probably adds to that too, although the rhymes are mostly “hidden.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
I take from the title this is dream-based … Jung would say self-encounter … most alluring is the absence of phones – no calling for help. Definitely puzzling imagery, but so delightfully vivid.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Dream, imagination and reality-based. Part of it was taken from a conversation in a bar (the Cactus Cafe), and then the form lent itself to finding interesting images.
LikeLike
The Cactus! LOTS of imaginative conversations within those walls ….
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, yes! I spent many hours there in the 80s.
LikeLike
Do you ever have a snippet of something in your head and suddenly realize it’s something that you wrote? And then do you say to yourself, “Wow, I actually wrote that!” You should. This is a really great piece. Memorable. I like the scythes and the spoons and the “subtle”.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you. Nothing stays in my head for too long. 🙂 But I occasionally uncover pieces I wrote years ago, like this one, and am pleasantly surprised.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A thought sneaks into your mind
quietly, like a straw piercing the oak’s
armor in a bad wind.
Love this.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Those thoughts!
LikeLike
Funny how that works? lol. I have written things that, if I didn’t see it in my own hand-writing, I’d swear someone else wrote it. *sigh* I posted something a while back about writing…
ugh… here’s a quote, hope you don’t mind… I just can’t seem to say it again any better:
“Anyone who writes for creativity alone, understands that when you write… truth is relative and has a very short half-life. Thoughts are fluid, and situations change from moment to moment. What is true today, perceptually, sometimes will be incomprehensible a week later… ”
You may have already read it, but here’s the link: https://canaryinthecoalminebook.wordpress.com/2016/10/28/2411/
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks for the link. I’d not read it. Yeah, it is funny how that works. I’ve uncovered a few pieces that seem to have been written by an alien being, even though I can vaguely remember having written them. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve had dreams like this,but they usually wake me up in a cold sweat.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Cold sweat, heart pounding…
LikeLiked by 1 person
“A thought sneaks into your mind quietly…”, like thoughts are outside entities, guiding angels or agent provocateurs… you are not “a” poet, you are THE poet!
6 umeboshi out of 5!
LikeLiked by 3 people
You have created a new standard! I’ll forever rate things in terms of umeboshi. Speaking of which, my supply is perilously low. I must make a shopping trip soon.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I absolutely hate umeboshi, but as it is a favorite of yours, I use it in a complimentary and congratulatory fashion. Now fresh takoyaki, now THAT is the food of the gods!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well done .
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you!
LikeLike
Has to be a dream if there are no phones…(K)
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ha! No kidding.
LikeLiked by 1 person
a sonnet in rhyme, is this really Okaji?
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ha! I spent a couple of years writing mostly sonnets. That was a while ago…
LikeLiked by 1 person
i have written very few sonnets in my time. i wrote quite a bit of terza rima & the Yeatsean ababcc stanza as i learned it through Roethke. i wrote one very long poem called Io which consisted of 14 sonnets, i thought that was very clever.
LikeLike
The sonnet is my default form – when the well is dry, I’ll write a sonnet. The form opens up so many possibilities.
LikeLiked by 2 people
i’ll maybe do some experiments with it i think, see if i can rustle something up with it. you’ve ignited my considerations on it now.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Read Willis Barnstone’s sonnets. I read a few of his in 1983, and they changed my view of the form. Amazing stuff.
LikeLiked by 1 person
will do
LikeLike
Beautiful images
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, C!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very, very welcome my friend Robert – you always inspire me so much
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, Candice, you are too kind.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I actually prefer poems that puzzle me. I enjoyed “swimming” in your dream. Thanks for liking Critically Free.
LikeLiked by 2 people
You’re very welcome, and please feel free to dive in anytime!
LikeLike
I love the way, so long ago too, you break down the barrier between poetry and prose, and you do so to the point that both inform the other without losing the essence of their own. Thank you for doing this. I really do appreciate the very real artistry.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you! I appreciate the distinction between the two, but also enjoy the outcome of the mix.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I really like this piece, Bob, especially the man, the puddle and subtlety. And I love that it still puzzles you. On some level, that seems to be the point.
LikeLiked by 2 people
My dreams are like that. 😀
LikeLike
Mine, too. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person