On the Moon after Solstice
you dream of hiking contours
to cathedral carol service.
Singing in the cavern of nave,
omphalos to the world, you curve
on rounded meridian of joy to outer
space, linking with others of like mind.
You race to catch the authors
to know the next act. Old tales
are told and tell themselves new.
You connect fragments, dropping
your lines, dropping me a line
in the cheer of retrieval.
Rings of companions collaborate,
not wanting to recapitulate
events of the day merely or
invent night’s happenstance.
Something’s given, something
larger than the single self.
Presently you’ll know the story
as it is happening to you.
Singly or together our dreams
direct us, as if night-given leads
to true script. What is real
agitates dream into action.
Penn Kemp is London, Ontario’s inaugural Poet Laureate.
In 2012, Penn Kemp and I published the chapbook Dream Sequins