Notes From Dreams

“I thirst.”
We thought He said:
“O send someone to dip a finger in the spring and cool my tongue.”
There was a sponge, a javelin, and vinegar there.
He turned His swollen tongue away.
We saw that instant what deep and spanless gulfs we listened across.

I saw the high priest standing as if in a vision.
A fierce accuser made it cold there like in the courts of law.
An angel stepped across and draped the priest in swaddling robes.
I cleared my throat: “Well, let them, then, endow a turban on his head.”
And at that sound a turban angel flew from out the throne.

“Hold still.”
He burned me like a kindling stick; I fainted from the pain.
When I came back He said:
“Now let the satan fire his blue-flamed torch, just say:
“I’m burned.”

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