“The Coahoma County Wind Cults”
by
David Berman
My dream walked on four legs
toward the remote source
of a pale yellow letter
only to circle around the cabin
when it got there.
A black and white cave rainbow
arched between two old shoes.
Oxygen bounced off the face of a doll,
looking for the slow dazzling guts
of a life form.
There was a moment of sudden clarity
when the pages of burned in opera glasses,
like a herd crossing zip codes
or an exhausted idea pressing
at the limits of the marquee bulbs,
my dream pushes air.