Epode#2 Poem by robert dickerson

Wake up, Nico. wake up!
Desire is no remedy for chagrin.

The drum sounds, the blade drops, the
Head hits the ground, still thinking.

This is not a daydream
Or something that happened long ago.

Mortification is a lake we swim in. Today
Tomorrow-suddenly you become the Older.

Now for you, too, the dead man is on the hayride-
Water-filled chuckholes make him gestural.

I am saying your dream is felicitous.
Small-pored, avocado, lit from within.

False floors may be sounded. Only
A true pirate knows the neighborhood of treasure,

And even that piece can be played
Assuming a large enough stage. Here

Is horse, here saddle:
Brooding on your slain king, advance.

A bottle of whiskey and a good cry
Is tragedys' folk remedy. This

Is not a daydream
Or something that happened long ago:

The sea of Nachmittag divides before you-
Let us build a house here and see.