I dream warm nightmares of six million
next
door neighbors sharing my lumpy quilt.
We
mend the patchwork between mountains and sea.
Tonight
I weave along the seams, scanning,
threading
through colors and textures, darning
the
ever changing landscape--- building dreams.
No one drives alone. I leave my car
No one drives alone. I leave my car
on
a glass sequined cigarette burn.
Walk
to the end of a run in your fabric,
hug you, and tie together loose strings.
-dp-
8-26-85
Photograph of a painting at a hospital in
Spokane, Washington. I am unable
to credit the artist at this time
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