Tuesday of Holy Week
He saw his dream
like smoke blowing in a thundershower
like windows crying
then he fell asleep.
The haunting pull of death
the knotted cord
his life obstructs the vision
standing in the flow of history
dismembered
bodiless and out of joint
then he fell asleep again.
He woke to the para-world
of daylight salvation time
where dreams unmake the man
and the war to end all wars
is fought in the shadow of need.
He marched in his own funeral parade
while the smoke blew
and the thundershowers washed the dirt
off the thumbs-down
double-fisted streets.
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