What Words May Dream Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

for e.e. cummings

I am a person making typos in my sleep
on a dream typewriter (shift key) T(unshift)
is not that sad when the typewriter turns into

a piano and then it is my words become part
of the history of music, the typos opening
the faerie doors between what is perceived

as language by the bureaucrats, the shrink wrapped
masters of concise English, into what becomes mists
ever as you would have wished it

into the mists I gallop I am not afraid never having

really been on horseback before and we find all
the myths and they are foaming. and my soul
is sea green and the words are forming in

gold foil rosettes on the undiscovered manuscripts
and these illuminations shift (shift key) I(unshift) nto, , ,
and leave the pedal down on these sonorities

so that that the colours may be found,
kaleidoscope fashion, sweet
cathedrals unbound: rose window rose window rose window

(petaling into the flowery mind of God) show forth! the
violet realities, realities of the Rose
fresher than freshets gleam on our heraldry

and the arcing and the singing of it ah! the singing
the moon stretched like a Harp into night itself as into clear
light of stars we don't yet know

we don't yet know
what language springs from
(is it Spring?) or april imagined

we don't yet know what
words May dreams

mary angela douglas 13 may 2015