A Dreamer

As he stepped from his vehicle; he lifted his...

Hello all. Anna Devine (Sad Sara) and I have been...

Written by Nate Stanford

Wednesday, 16 April 2008

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I am not a poet.

Nor am I an artist.

Or an inspiration.

I am a dreamer.

Playing centerfield

for the New York

Yankees. Shuffling

my feet in the turf.

Floating aimlessly,

a cable binding me

with my shuttle. Light-

years away from home

Tapping an impatient

foot, waiting to be served.

A scepter in one hand, and

a crown on my brow.

The end of an arrow,

made steady by my fingertips,

a young deer in vision; food

for the whole tribe.

Static on the mike as

I step up to make my

speech, on my plans on

how to run the universe.

Fruitless days and my

imaginitive escape,

hours spent in school,

looking out the window.

And as the jockey turns

the final bend, I wonder

what his purebred steed

is dreaming about.

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