Today we sit under spangled parasols, sipping oatmeal lattes spiced with fresh-picked peppermint and a sprinkle of caramel. Not far away on honey-baked shores children cavort on grassy fields, Couples shy in tents, words stumble. A bird we’ve never seen before Sings to the sway of reed songs planted in concrete, riprap, cobble. Today we sail on sunset holding hands and twirl in the drizzle of smog and perfume. We snicker at trashcan fairies and hide from dragons that swaggered. Dragons who wore caps and whistled thunder to the East, to the North, to the South, to the small denizens of salaryman-land. But we’ll have dinner soon. Salmon from Norway, Or somewhere faraway. Grilled, unblemished, with a touch of finger lime. Today we fall in love again in the Burned House. We hang on our vows, hang on hard bough that still stand bracing Flames from the Burned House. And all around us Man’s voices mellowed before the Roaring river and shrieking mares and thundering of the Horsemen’s march, March of the Horsemen armoured in yellow, blue, and rainbow. March of the Horsemen dust-ward on rusty steeds. March of the Horsemen, into metered onslaught, chanting pallor song of the living dead. The Dead lay about. But there will be time to cast a tear for the penny rich bones. Today we forget our dead. Today we find again, the life we had lost in the humdrum brushed over dreaming. Today we dance bare feet, and chase Departed Nymphs. Today we crunch bones. Today we sing songs. Today we break Stones.
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