THOMAS KINSELLA'S DREAM

A book brings you back
to life
as you are translated
to another rampart
only the sea's echo
hears you on the dock
an ache of the Fall
when you take
the moist dead leaves
in your fingers
you write new lines
on the dim shore
the earth matches
a higher cloud
the home harbor master
hears birds over
these burning sounds
and you float above it all.