What Is and What Should Never Be (adam fieled)

I was up in the stacks, picking at

a scab done in blank verse, I was

gazing blankly at lone/level sands,

I saw you floating in ginger down

aisle after aisle of carrion, carrying

red beacon light from a head halo,

I saw a book suddenly snapped, I

saw you in blurs of blue metaphor,

I was up against you in an aisle, I

took you into a kind of castle that

was really a closet, in castle/closet

we were magically welded to rivers

we were dirt to Browning in greens

catch the wind sail and spin way up

I woke to the sound of rain’s gong

I saw that the desert had melted