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 
I love a dream poem like this where I can be puzzled along with the author! Being baffled by subconscious imagery is a universal experience. 🙂
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My dreams are usually dull and/or about school, even after all these years. A few days ago I dreamed that I wasn’t going to earn my MFA because I didn’t have the requisite science and math courses… It’s true that I’m not going to earn an MFA, but then I’ve never enrolled in a program. And of course there aren’t science and math course requirements in those programs either. Ha!
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😆 I’m impressed by how deftly our brains find those implausible-only-upon-close-inspection anxieties!
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And why do those anxieties live on forever?
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