Jack Escobar's Dream

When I came back from the dead, the

Only thing worth having was

One clean bite, the first real break

I'd ever known from breathless

Want to have furrows run through me

Like cold breath blown through salt.

I dreamed that in front of the angels some-

One had set a microphone;

Though my voice was thin and reedy,

Through me came the sound of ages,

And in Jack Escobar's dream,

Pauline lost herself

Down dark desert highways

And reading dense poets was less of a

Chore and more of a lightness.

Even the devil

in his thick forest of nicotine

Fireflies found the sound

Of forks and glasses in

Jack Escobar's vast hall

Strangely pleasing; and I

In turn recognized that the first choice--

Made before heat congealed into

Disparate matter--

Had been mine alone;

And Jack and I danced in the garden

Where ephemera rose and fell

Between branches of the yew.

Soon Dawn rose up (for Jack had met her with

Morning quickness);

The stars collapsed, and then I slept.