There Is a Tipping Place

dream slip 03

There is a tipping place
in sleep’s dark symphony…
a dream proscenium through night
where actors enter…exit
to execute a scene–develop plot
with swift tangling images…

A felucca sweeps Nile’s noon
where on its desert shore
a Sanddorn shaman
clear chants Gregorian
to nest palm fronds
on one eagle feather…

Against the hull waves lap adagio
to rock a queen there standing
crowned with empty oyster shells,
naked, jeweled with scarabs
necklaced on her breasts.

Antler crowned…in leather,
her drunk king mumbles
that to be king is nothing…nothing…
but to be safely thus.

She picks three corn husks
from deep inside her mouth,
spits teeth into her hand
to cast them to the shore
where they turn crocodile.

The thrashing of their tails’
crescendo ripples Nile
to torrents…flips the tossing craft;
its sails dip horizontal…
it slips beneath the surge.

Upon the shore the shaman,
to storm’s allegro heedless,
lifts the last palm spine;
it hovers…spelled in air
diminuendo against nothing
but span of eagle feather.

Photo Credit: Sorella


6 thoughts on “There Is a Tipping Place

    1. Oh, you thoughtful friend! Your Sanddorn video is a most welcome addition to this poem…truly completes the vision that’s been in my mind since first I saw this marvel. xxoo

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