By Rustin L. Larson
i.
In the dream, I was walking.
I didn’t know where I was:
Woodland, dim like a stage set.
I saw two lady centaurs.
Both wore park ranger uniforms
On their human parts,
Complete with badges and hats.
“Pardon me,” I said to one.
Her nametag said “Phyllis.”
I said, “I’m a bit lost.
Can you tell me how to get back?”
“Just follow the path,” she said.
“You’ll get there sooner or later.”
Her face was a balaclava
Of deer hide. “Thank you,” I said.
I walked the nature path
Even through the darkness.
I could sense the centaurides
Following me, always out of range
Of sight, but I could hear them
Murmuring and coughing.
Finally, I saw the first streetlamp
Of town, beckoning like a cold
Planet. I waited
As the California Zephyr,
Extremely late, rushed
Though the crossing,
And then I could see
My house, the porchlight lit,
Which meant my people
Were waiting.
ii.
The lovely blood-drawing nurse
Was small, like a black-maned
Miniature horse, but human,
Ballerina in black slacks, friendly
But with teary eyes as if
Her fellow nurses had been
Teasing her and she was carrying
Her heart like a punching bag
Inside. My right arm vein
Would not give her a full
Second vial, and I apologized.
“I don’t mean to be so stingy.”
Small as she was, I could sense
She was the mother of a school child,
Her pride and joy, for whom
She worked: specialist milking veins
Of flabby white seniors like myself,
And others, whose blood
Would unravel the mysteries
Of a sick and sorry earth.
The Importance of Arts, Culture, The Creative Process, and how this project resonates with you:
The world should be ruled by compassion and not greed, and a benevolent monarch seated in a palace of art packed to the vents with great paintings, great music, great books, and great mentors teaching classes for everyone. Every workplace will allow 1 and 1/2 hours daily, paid, for each worker to focus on the creation of art. The air will then sing with freedom and delight. I draw upon my dreams, those that I can remember upon awaking. It is lucky to encounter centaurs in your dreams, I understand. It is even luckier if they allow you to speak to them. All forests. All animals. Breathable air. Fresh water. I hope all these continue to exist for the next generation.
