" Visions"
You will see the dead walk toward
you, and you will feel their bones clatter.
Accept these oracles without dread.
Nothing exists now except a stockpile of spirits
who believe they live. When the cat tips
the urn that holds your ashes, out they come,
bumbling as they run wild into the living
room to place their pasty lips near
my innocent ear; to hear the arguments
of the deceased is wretched. Debussy holds
Clair de lune hostage in the shade
of the sun. Escher rips himself in half to ride
the backbones of geese who migrate east and west.
Wright wrongly rambles through corridors
demanding blueprints for the Guggenheim,
while Carl crams the collective
down the throat of the unconscious
Sigmund till he chokes.
At the junction of the fractured places,
at the crossroads of the greatest dangers, trauma
brings strange revelations and the healing begins.
© 2002M
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