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The fields.

As I read the dream bloomed and I entered it He was speaking "matters of grace" anastomosing anti-worlds He evoked the common dream so that we were facets of the zeitgeist sleepwalkers puppets but we could follow our strings our fracture lines back into the glow Gratefully I told him my own dream visions climbing through rotten museums The mortuary dream in which the lovers mix delicately as liquids in the grave Peter's explanations the dry cerements lightning hit the evidential pot The Black girl and Mendelssohn his music a rustling of angels Was her angry cry the world regained? the angels lost? the story with its veins popped out a bum rummaging through subway trash "I got to find me some M&M's . . . something that will keep . . ." a free man in the nickel package I spoke these things to his picture on the back book flap but his reaction wasn't personal He nodded as if remembering and just absorbed what I'd said to further talk and further writing How lonely it was then annihilating We couldn't mingle our dreams We were like parallel lines horses grazing past each other in the fields of intertextuality

Richard Silberg is Associate Editor of Poetry Flash. His poems have appeared recently in Denver Quarterly and ON THE BUS, and he has finished a manuscript, Riding for What Was Missed.
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Author:Silberg, Richard
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Sep 1, 1993
Words:226
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