Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Waking the Sandman 2

The American Dream...

What's to say
about this peculiar institution,
anyway?

This Dream that entices
so many,
draws in
so many,
drowns
so many,
ruins and makes
so many?

They say if you work hard enough
the Dream is real,
and I really don't know what to say
about that,
because is a dream real?

Does it conform to expectations?
Does it satisfy your every need?

More and more I think of it
as the Dream of lunatics
and small children,
too blissful in their ignorance
to care about what's real.

This is not to say it's not
achievable,
but then it's no longer a Dream,
is it?

That's the quandary,
the riddle at the heart of a dream,
the riddle that is a dream,
synonymous and perhaps a sin, too

I call it less Dream than Myth,
personally,
but that's not what the Sandman thinks,
the founder of the feast,
the Aeneas or perhaps Brutus
(which is it? I can never tell),
the Washington crossing the Delaware,
surviving a brutal winter with disgruntled troops,
chopping down cherry trees,
a pariah until a hero
and then a legend forever emblazoned on history
unassailable, unassailable, unassailable to all

And yet,
it's time to wake the Sandman,
at last,
wake him because it's morning
in mourning and warning
and he's going to wake anyway
so it's best just to get it over with
and have it on our terms

That's the idea,
anyway

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