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  • Asleep in the Sky

    Beyond open doors at the Zoo, baby polar bears
    curl under the edge of a sheet of ice, two, asleep.
    Walking closer, I lean through another the door
    for a closer look at the sleeping babies. I might stroke
    their fur, they seem so soft and peaceful. I bend closer,
    hand outstretched. The mother bear looks up, sees me, and roars.
    Although I know polar bears run faster, I turn and run,
    dash through swinging doors. The bear pushes through
    behind me, close. Too close, almost close enough
    to bite. I run and run. Then I realize I am dreaming
    and can fly in dreams. I dive through the walls of the zoo
    as if they were only a skin of water, bound up and away,
    and into the sky, and then fly and fly and fly
    for sheer ecstatic joy of flying. In this warm country,
    made only of sky and flight and bliss, no ground exists
    toward which to fall.

    Mary Stebbins Taitt
    Saturday, June 20, 2015, 1:33 AM, 1st draft as a poem (Wrote it down as a dream)
  • Poem: brand new 1st draft tonight, ironically during a bout of insomnia.

    Image, colored pencil sketch of Keith. The image does have something to do with the poem, indirectly.

    Dedication: for Sol Luckman, because of his book about dreaming and consciousness, etc.

    Apologies: for two posts in a day, 3 in less than 24 hours. I try not to to do that, but I'm up in the middle of the night. Forgive me.
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