Dreams Tell Me Poem by Daniel Brick

Dreams tell me
the rivers of half the world
are on fire. The hot air absorbs
the water, and nothing flows,
not water, not air. People walk dazed
over the parched ground they loved.
Trees are mute as their roots suffocate.










































































Dreams tell me
that the rivers of half the world
are burning, The hot air absorbs all the
moisture, and and river beds are dry and
cracked. Plants wither and flowers fade.
In the heavy heat people sleep restlessly.
Trees are mute as their underground roots suffocate.








Dreams tell me
morning is no longer a reliable time
zone. It does not summon sleepers
to wakefulness. It has argued with the sun
and they feel no kinship binds them.
Even the long nights have been affected:
shafts of wayward light pierce the darkness.

The pilgrims, whose prayers have kept people
from fighting and killing, cannot reach the hill
from which they fling their paper prayers
on the the winds to Heaven. Already scores of
soldiers fill the roads to our province. They
squat, fully armed, in farmers' fields. They don't
care about crops. They wait for the next War Lord.

Scientists are in the verge of creating
Cold Fusion Reactors. They tell me
this will solve all of our energy problems.
Are we only weeks away from a Golden Age?
Last night, in a dream, I saw waves of
black in a sky streaked with a red glow.
On earth sick men huddled together in fear.
But the machinery still functioned reliably.