Ghosts, Campfires and Other Faint Aspirations

Ghosts, Campfires and Other Faint Aspirations

Over and over and over
Just doesn’t cut it anymore --
‘Cause Wikipedia has all the straight facts,
Instant access --
And faith isn’t worth a damn or a dollar.

I watched the natives of someplace last night
On the Discovery channel --
Singing and dancing around the campfire.
Poor bastards
Don’t have 1-800, or text mail –
They will never have a winner,
Or know the score.

They performed anonymously
In the dim light of the torches
That flicker and blink,
Like the eyes of the anonymous gods
They dance for.

To the children of the sand,
It’s all
1 or 2 –
Yes or No –
Win or lose –
Right or wrong –
For everything.
No one needs an explanation,
Or a clue.
Hypothesis for History,
Computation for Comprehension.
Factual Fundamentalism.

I think
Simplicity is merely amusing anymore,
In a dream about falling –
I wake up,
I get up out of bed
And fall some more
In someone else’s dream,
Until they wake up.
On and on,
I sense
Faint rustling of the wind
Through my hair.
Destiny calls.

I like to dream.
All the dreamers and I
Dream
The stories
Drifting across consciousness
Like ghosts –
Perhaps holy.

I like the wind
That whispers and howls
Rumors and Proclamations
About movement and direction,
Perhaps perfection.

I like to dance
With the natives,
‘round a campfire.
In the dim light of the torches
That flicker and blink,
Like the eyes of the anonymous gods
We dance for.