?I?m Going To Have To Fire the Dream Master?

Click the arrow on the audio player to?hear Richard Kenney read this poem. You can also download?the recording or?subscribe?to?Slate's Poetry Podcast on iTunes.?

Who fabricates our dreams? Well, we must, or Anyway some part of us. The mystery?s the utter Ambush of it: how, in night?s apparent theater, Our fingers clench the velvet armrests, our eyes Widen with suspense ? How could we surprise Ourselves? And so,
We posit the cloaked figure of the Dream Master. Mine?s got to go.

To be clear: the problem?s not In the theater itself, albeit shabby, old, ornate, A nighthawk?s haunt, a lonely man?s demesne. Nor in the mothy, slow unrolling screen. Nor in the projection equipment?a little flickery, as to That; still, the problem?s with the Dream Master. Ask Carl Jung, spooning schlag in the Schnitzel Platz. The problem? The problem? The problem?s with the plots.

Not naked, late. Not naked, late, at the lectern, hearing One?s name announced: Electrical Engineering Colloquium? again!?the keynote speaker. Not naked anywhere obliquer Than doing taxes after a day of doing taxes; Likewise dishes, any dully punishing repetitive praxis Requiring finer motor skills and better Eyesight than one possesses, like disassembling a carburetor By dying flashlight, or like?Oh, never mind. These lines Are beginning to seem A little too much like one of those damned, idiotic dreams From which, dear audience, you may take The Master?s word, you are now requested to awake.

For Slate's poetry submission guidelines, click here. Click here?to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.

Source: http://feeds.slate.com/click.phdo?i=9c4a97087d7a0c89f514213c3975ef56

micron susan g komen kenyon martin kenyon martin big miracle slab city super bowl snacks