Can't remember when I wrote this poem based on a dream. But ran across it today in my piles. Hope you enjoy. 

Young Dream

Doctor Jung comes to
visit me in a dream.

he looks younger. Not like
Felix Unger or some

but more like Vic Morrow
or my Uncle Ray.

his 1950's crew-cut reminds
me of Russian MiGs.

black and white photos,
iron curtain.

I take the time to visit with him.
because he may not be
around much

I notice he looks very young
for a man born in

the 1880's.

I think it's because of his inquiring mind
it keeps him young.

speaking in tongues....
on a lower rung
with Doctor

Jung was not as stranger to Blake.
he also made his own cake.

Teófilo Stevenson receivin
 my inspiration from

rainbow mountain majesty,
white crown.

Lowell tad pole, pearl handle
door knobs*

laying on bed, throwing up
hands, sands
of time.

Jeffery J. Rahn

*Doorknobs often figure in Lowell's verse. They are the sort of thing which Browning or Dickens would have their bed idlers focus their eyes upon. The mad are a group to whom Lowell knew himself to belong.

Empty , irresolute, ashamed,
when the sacred texts are named,
I lie here on my bed apart,
and when I look into my heart,
I discover none of the great
subjects: death,friendship,love and hate...
only old china doorknobs,sad
slight, useless things to calm the mad.


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