• a.p. duvall

This dreamer...

this dreamer is a fool and that dreamer is a used-car salesman

and the other, there, way back there, in the corner,

is a silent dreamer,

he drums his thumbs on the waist of his jeans

stares down nervously into his shirt so full of holes

let’s switch roles, you be him and he you

and when you wake up feeling cold

in the bones and in the nose it’ll actually be him

and when he awakes sensation being chased

across the ivory farms and the lace curtains

strung all along the merry-go-round

above the soup bowl filled with your challenge

it’ll be you dancing with the truth.

this dreamer is a patriarch and that dreamer thinks about art

and befriended with a critique printed on a page

in the back of the gossamer news

there is no truth per se

but here it goes anyways

The matchstick fell in love with a voice that bled

onto the film halfway through reel two last June

it only happened once then when projectionist

lost all trust in his hands save the left pinky finger

which would later lead the entire mutiny

this dreamer is a saint and that dreamer is a mother

picture postcard sent from Fallen Springs, Nevada

where they met the hotel owner, who in his past,

swallowed the key and gave head to the lock

back of the bus station in front of the swamp

of all the people I tell this to I hope you understand the most

dreams are for dreamers

poetry is for ghosts

plays are for actors

death is for us common folk


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