Dream of a Plumb Line
by and published in Edition Eleven of Pomegranate
Asleep in bed, I travelled to a field.
I have never seen a place so flat.
The horizon was the only scenery.
Here and there were tufts of longer grass.
I’d pick a piece and holding it upright,
Blow a buzzing note that rolled away.
As I walked, I came across a plumb line,
A small lead weight that hung straight down
On the end of a string. The string went
Up into the sky. It hung straight down.
The weight was small enough to fit
Into my hand. In a land of horizontals
It was solitary. I left it there
And continued walking.