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autist | Poem

 
AUTIST DREAMS

  Withfingers raw and damp
 I sensed the shape of colors
 diagrammed across the easel
 sky with wings whose feathers
 were so fine an atom would be fat;
 I wept the spectrum down my face
 and tasted rain from cloudless skies
 that clouded over crucifix and waterloo
 and clouded over buchenwald
 where thin trees drooped then
 pulled up roots to walk into a sun
 light brown and spinning 'round.
 When mama told me all's a dream
 I hit refresh upon the clock --
 five minutes more before I sleep.

- JohnHorváth

Paintingby Ken Peters

toJohn  ~toMoongate

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