bike crushed by wheel the boy projected and he flew in 1978

dreamt flying in the winded silence briefly died

 

bounced off tarmac 15 feet from launch raised up on haunch and knee and would have stood

 

I’ve said that boasting about mortality

 

now I write it is written

 

my living upshot

 

from about as far away from the end as the boy was from the beginning in 1978

 

every day since I’ve dreamt alive I’m dying

 

happy remembering dreams and not remembering happy dreams

 

I can do it awake as well as sleeping plain material

 

always awake as awake

 

missed stair crunch every night for as many years

 

humming in a clearing of consciousness the boy hears you

 

commons at the start or end of your dream I do but love alive