Poem of the Week

Today’s snippet comes from “The Ghost Song.” Check back next week for a new excerpt from Jim’s writings.

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Awake
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one
Choose the day, choose the sign of your day
The days divinity
First thing you see
A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by its quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us
Choose they croon the ancient ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances
Indians scattered,
On dawns highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young childs,
Fragile eggshell mind
We have assembled inside,
This ancient and insane theater
To propagate our lust for our life,
And flee