Poem
A Dream of Tolstoy

a dream of Tolstoy

There's a place of which I know where the
rich go to leave the world
The boats are silent-chauffeur driven
to docks carpeted deep in moss & sweet fennel
There's one rule one rule alone
Only one person may stand on
the rocks at a time
To preserve the stillness

And sail out into the glass
Where willows kiss the water
And the leaves are always
blowing and one can
hardly see ten feet for the blos-
soms in the air

Pink is prevalent, a purulent shade
a leaking old watercolour
Landscape in jigsaw puzzle form
of a river with trees
draped in pink
Like weird feather dusters

And sit as the boats take them away
The croak of doves rustles of water
on water
Spray from the fountains place
with subtle art
Not to disturb the natural setting
A day can go by in
churning solitudes

...and afterwards drinking
toasts at the "Let's Pretend"
To visits of the muse
and discussions of creative pro-
gress

she is lovely is she not
Not the brightest of the
ingenues

(she is finally able to convince them her
lack of children does not make her less complete

But rather) a perfect vessel
for divine inspiration