By J.J. Tindall
WHITE DREAM
Dreams come
in clouds, floating through
the blue
brain. There goes fame,
there fortune, there
beautiful
lovers. Light,
lithe, invigorating
clouds
(quiet, not loud).
Black clouds fly,
white clouds
float, each
an invention
of self.
Many clouds
borrowed money from their dad
and came
to Chicago.
To invent
themselves.
There goes Augie Swift,
there Louis Sullivan, there
(MY FAVORITE) Montgomery
Ward. So
here I and I
came.
To the City of
White Dreams, City
of Inventors.
Came
to invent
myself.
Here is Billy
Corgan, here
Michael Jordan, here
Oprah.
I want
to be cool,
too!
Aw, shucks.
My cloud
keeps crashing
into the lake,
baptized by
failure.
My dad
is dead now so I can’t borrow any more
dough.
Yet I and I
persist, re-inventing
ramp, breeze
and brass
balls. CITY OF
BRASS
BALLS.
Narcissus of
Cloudgate, sure, sure.
I and I breathe
to shine
on you,
seethe
to shine
on you,
vying,
though
vexed,
to
glide.
–
J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
–
More Tindall:
* Music on MySpace
* Fiction: A Hole To China
* Critical biography at e-poets.net
Posted on July 20, 2009