Thoughts on Reading Theodore Melnechuk's Seeing and Believing 


the banshee screams,
but not in my dreams -
reality is and yet is not
what it obviously seems.

playing at ocean's breezy edge,
it amuses me to think aloud
and touch the transient cloud
hovering by my muddy twin.

we reach beyond each other's skies,
our fingers distorting the boundary between
in my dreams,
in my dreams.

into his watery land i stretch so far
as i comfortably can to grasp
the stuff of his world in my exploratory hand -
and find without surprise that it is only sand.

my other hand now rises to my daughter's face
and my twin's hand moves in sync to find the trace
of my child's features in his child's face,
in my dreams,
in my dreams.

my wandering, sticky fingers skirt 
the boundary of her lotion-slathered skin
with salt and sea and sand quite mingled in
where and when so many worlds collide,
the cloud, the sand, the wind, the child, the face,
the watery land we call the sea and i know somewhere

the banshee screams,
but never, ever in my dreams