VISITING OTHER FOLKS' DREAMS

Ordinarily, the duke's nephew
Spends a brief while in his own dream
Before dressing warmly and going off
To inspect those of others. Once he's gone
His dream is thrown open to the public
And light refreshments are served.
I used to go, usually on nights
When I thought there'd be dancing.
The door behind the arras
Always led to a summer Wednesday
Which, given how I was back then,
Suited me to the ground.

LATE NIGHT WONDERING

Perhaps if I’d gone out dancing my feet.

Approving of the use I made of them,

Would not decide to make a home for gout.

Had I given thought to great questions

It might be my head would not be inviting

All the birds of the air to make nests in it.

Had I given my heart the freedom it wanted

Who knows but that, after it ran off,

It might have returned when I grew old?

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE BEGINNING AND THE END

It wasn’t the demons; the neighborhood

Was used to demons, rioting in the bars

Or being noisily sick in the alleys.

Demons told jokes. Not good ones, true;

But the angels never seemed even to smile.

A barmaid told me she’d heard them laughing

I doubted this. Drink never made them happy

They’d won the war; God was on their side;

When had they stopped dancing?

AFTER FLAUBERT

In Heaven, word quickly spread

That, in an alley in Rheims, a bear

Had found an old cracked pot

And turned it upside down.

Now, with a spoon he’d somewhere found

He was beating out a tune.

Nothing complicated, mind you;

But the rhythm was sly and pleading

And, the angels decided,

One could dance to it.