March 13, 1987 (I was 42)
Themes of a Life
(Escape of the thrilled soul)
The themes of a life fall upon me this morning;
begun as hard phrases for ideas found in youth,
they glare through blue windshield off wet
pavement
momentarily blinding me once more in the
spring.
Cheap Thrills, excursions of extremism,
a few footfalls beyond the bounds of
convention,
taken as regularly as medicine
to reveal the arbitrary values upon which
judgments lie
until pedestrian habit becomes cynical
addiction.
Battling the Demons, little evils allowed to
inhabit us
because we proudly remember Hemingway had them,
and their stings were so innocuous.
Age begins to understand persistence
and respect has made the little devils grow.
Dreams of Flying, any dreams really
that linger into the morning and take possession,
extending their insistent reality upon the
dreamer’s conscious actions.
Dreams are the art of the soul, and to dream of
flying
is undeniably to fly for the space of the
dream, perhaps beyond.
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