O triple sob -- turned forty at midnight -- body at dawn booze-soddened but hopeful, knowing that the only thing to remember is dreams. Dead clear zero, Sunday afternoon in an attic of a closed resort on Lake Michigan with one lone duck riding the diminishing swells of yesterday's storm against the snowy cliffs of North Manitou: Whom are we to love? How many and what for? My heart's gone to sea for years. This is a prayer, plaint, wish, howl of void beneath breastbone. Dreams, soul chasers, bring back my heart alive. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SURFACES AND MASKS; 12 by CLARENCE MAJOR CYMON AND IPHIGENIA by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1) by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON SONNET: TO HIS LUTE by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN VENUS OF THE LOUVRE by EMMA LAZARUS THE SIFTING OF PETER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |