Bleached Dream Poem by Joe Fraccalvieri

When the music disappears...
When the melody melts to the sound of colored wind chimes
and settles itself within nostrils of the wind...
Living in breezes that flow like blood
through a Tin-Man's heart

Let my eyes see the lines of chaos that stood broken
between the cries of childhood and winter carnivals
Let my lungs breathe that air--
covered with the scent of cotton candy
And echoes with every breath
to the singular ticking of a clock

Fill my ears then with song--
With words that once were married to such music--
Where each note whispered is a warm hand
which caresses and chills my skin
That I might make a new brand of music--
To mark the way by swift though shallow footsteps--
To await that day when the parade returns

Let me hear laughter
stripped from the school-yards and state fairs...
Let me hear the poems
that speak from the lips of thunderous drums--
The wooden sounds of saxophones, mystical harps
and hollowed instruments
whose naked strings awaken melancholy in my mind,
until nostalgic tears drip from every pore

When the memory of that sound rises to the tip of thought--
And when the spirit of music moves me once again,
I will dance... oblivious to the din of man to stand defiant--
I will dance... undisturbed by the turbulence around me--
I will dance... as I listen for the moment I'm reborn-

In silence will I dance-- And dance I will--

like the dolphin that rips through the stillness of its own folly-
To dance with the moon on the water...
To sail with the stars in the sky...
To walk upon the earth like Jesus...
At least--
if only to try