Poem by Lucas Tromblee 



DREAM 337 


Sky like a black bleached cloth, 
we all watched her rake the beach
with a box spring. We protest like beef cattle, 
I sing like a concussed woodpecker for her. 

Today so far is a bar of blues. 
Tomorrow is the same bar
with half a new note. 

Hopelessness is a well
you guess is bigger
every time you throw a dime down. 
Spew blues, do what you can do, 
what you can and cannot do. 

The next day a plastic bag
drifts by like a cloud. Die, lie down, 
let the sparrow out your head
you forgot you ran over.