Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
......
Even while I dreamed I prayed that what I saw was only fear and no foretelling,
for I saw the last known landscape destroyed for the sake
of the objective, the soil bludgeoned, the rock blasted.
Those who had wanted to go home would never get there now.
I visited the offices where for the sake of the objective the planners planned
at blank desks set in rows. I visited the loud factories
where the machines were made that would drive ever forward
toward the objective. I saw the forest reduced to stumps and gullies; I saw
the poisoned river, the mountain cast into the valley;
......
I
1 Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us ...
2 Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent ...
3 Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient ...
4 Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
5 But nothing happens.
6 Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
7 Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
......
I praise you because
you are artist and scientist
in one. When I am somewhat
fearful of your power,
your ability to work miracles
with a set-square, I hear
you murmuring to yourself
in a notation Beethoven
dreamed of but never achieved.
You run off your scales of
......
You're in this dream of cotton plants.
You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds
Fall with a sigh. You take another step,
Chop, and the sigh comes again,
Until you yourself are breathing that way
With each step, a sigh that will follow you into town.
That's hours later. The sun is a red blister
Coming up in your palm. Your back is strong,
Young, not yet the broken chair
......
Sleeping in blossoms, plush pillows!
Fleeting dreams, of pink, cloud billows.
Red, orange, purple and golden,
spread over green park, so olden.
Soft, the sighs, as hummingbird flies,
Oft' plagued by purple martin cries.
Falling through petals ~ deep, downy.
Crawling time, scented and drowsy.
Mary Lou Sims was young and enterprising, like stars routing dark;
Or mauve dawn on the verge of discovery, awaiting time's remarks.
Mary Lou's best friend was Cora Mann, ever since sweet childhood;
When they'd sat in zesty school together, in the town of 'Wildwood.'
They dreamed of opening an antique shop, like an old rose garden;
Awash in butterscotch sun's long memory, scents roaming, wanton.
Other friends visited Mary Lou frequently, like frilly clouds visit sun;
......
Trying to survive,
I began dreaming each day;
That tore me apart.
Beneath the vast and silent sky,
The stars awaken, twinkling high.
A symphony of light and grace,
In endless realms of boundless space.
Each star, a note in cosmic tune,
Their rhythm sways beneath the moon.
Through ancient whispers, they proclaim,
The story etched in heaven’s name.
Their voices hum through midnight's veil,
A melody that cannot fail.
......
Black onyx night, of the pearlescent moon,
diamond dew kissed, musk rose red.
Deep purple and white passion!
Phantoms dance in lilac dreams;
around the corner of blooms,
with memories of sunshine.
Comparing lovely costumes,
in fields, beds and flowerpots,
just steps away from moonlight.
A polka dot rainbow flared.
......