UNTITLED POEM INSPIRED BY THE PICTURE ON THE COVER OF MY COPY OF JIM CARROL’S VOLUME OF POETRY ENTITLED VOID, OF COURSE
I lie about my dreams.
I claim I don’t dream of war or conquest.
But I do. I say
I don’t dream of fame
or fortune
But you know I do. I might omit
That sometimes I dream of the repugnance of society,
Just ugliness and Barbie dolls,
Or of the refuse
Burnt, buried, left behind
Or the cracked sidewalks & decaying concrete slabs
Or the flyspecked bar & the 79 El Dorado parked at the curb.
I might make out that my dreams
Are all detached and absurd.
I might make out like they don't mean nothin'.
I might tell you about the one where you were in it
Making a face or smiling ironically.
I might tell you about the one where I was hiding
In the barn at the farm where I played with my friend Danny at 14,or the one
From when I was 12 about the blonde girl at the beach.
That doesn't mean you know it all. That doesn't mean I've told you everything.
That doesn't mean I've come clean
About whether or not there's ever blood
Or bodies.
Maybe I dream about war.
Maybe I conquer in my dreams.
I lie about my dreams.
James MacFarlane Williams