The Other Poem by Jeffrey McCambridge

Who is this that
Holds the pen, giving shape
To words, and color to sound?
I have seen him before,
In a dream I once had.

I dreamt of tigers,
And he recited for me
His poetry.

In the shadows of the cosmos
I lose myself in him,
With each line of verse
And story told.

But how much can be lost
Before one of use is gone?
I hunger and thirst,
And still die of blindness

I am shown a book,
But cannot see the same words,
Nor worlds inside as he does.

I have seen him before,
A glimpse in a dream
I once had of tigers and poetry.

I do not know which of us
Wrote these lines,
Nor which of us will
Live to read them.