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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