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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

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