Dreams
They sap man’s substance
as moon the dew.
A rope grows erect
from the crown of the head.
A black swan hatches
from a pebble.
And a flock of angels in the sky
is taking an evening class
on the skid pan.
I dream, so I dream.
I dream
that three times three is nine,
that the right-hand
rule applies;
and when the circus leaves
the trampled ground will
once more overgrow with grass.
Yes, grass.
Unequivocal grass.
Just grass.
Copyright Credit: Miroslav Holub,“Dreams” from Poems Before & After. Reprinted with the permission of Bloodaxe Books Ltd., www.bloodaxebooks.com.
Source: Poems Before and After (Bloodaxe Books, 2006)