Now I want to dream, but the velvet ant
Exits from a sugary ridge of sand,
A downy automaton, and the king snake,
Colder than the spikes of ice plant,
Makes a black track, snails smash ,
Hurled against the garden wall,
A line of lighter fluid traces
Termites into their halls,
Fire follows. I want to dream
All is forgiven and these bones–
The speaking of water
And the distance of eucalyptus–
Will make a past, parents, a child.
But I cannot dream beyond
The creatures of the sand hill,
Velvet ant, king snake, snail, termite,
And in every hollow the black widow's
Speckled daughters.
I believe there is a secret to life
Because my earliest memories are
Of hearing secrets muffled by a wall,
Coming to me in pieces like dust
Sliding down a shaft of sunlight .
Only these came in darkness
And sparked and fused and radiated
Half-truths I made whole.
It is story hour on the hilltop.
The blue sea looks up at the sky.
The foxtails point with the breeze ,
The sinless, culprit breeze.
And everyone's gone, except
As this dream I wanted to dream.
