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Birds on Fire

dreamed 2008/9/15 by Wayan.

THAT DAY

I just finished Terrorist Hunter by Anonymous, a compelling, caustic, invigorating book by an Iraqi woman who infiltrates American mosques and combs websites to find recruiters and funders of terrorism. Her criticisms of the FBI and CIA's hoarding of data and active blocking of investigations, particularly of Bush's Saudi Arabian buddies, are savage; she considers them nearly as culpable as the terrorists themselves.

THAT NIGHT....

Deep night. Moonless black.
We're camped in a grassy fold
of California hills--
not that you can tell.

Time to wake the Hero!
He planned this wee-hour strike:
we'll surprise the enemy tribe
on the hill just to the north.

I whisper his name three times,
careful not to touch him.
For he's a trained assassin--
slash-prone. And I like my limbs.

Awake, he spies a strange strip
faintly glowing red. A folded fan,
or a unsheathed longsword?
He takes it as a portent. Well,

he's the expert. So
he tears and cuts a gull-
sized paper bird, and then
goes forth to face the foe.

Oops! They're awake, huddled behind
their spear-thin
spear-tall
famously cunning Hero.

He leads, they timidly trail,
thin-tall spears in dawn-dim hands
on the four-lane road up to
the College of San Mateo.

Our Hero has a plan to strike
panic in their hearts. He lights
the bird, and nods to his tall
Lieutenant, who sets it flying

flaming toward the enemy. But
the poor bird flutters round and down
to fall ash-dead at our feet.
Well, it horrified me.

Our Hero so far disappoints.
On the other hand, their Hero soon
gets cut off from his cowardly troops!
We chase him through a house with rooms

whose doorways form a squarish ring.
Round and round the heroes go!
He tries to hide, but we're all in loud
Renaissance garb, and it's daylight now,

so lurking doesn't work so well.
We catch him at last, although
our Hero ain't much help--
so big and muscled and slow.

What do we do with him now?
Theirs, I mean, not ours...
I wake shivering in the dark.
4:15 predawn. A chilly fall,

and no heroes here at all.

NOTES IN THE MORNING For those who have come here purely because of its political prediction... Let me clarify. This is a dream. A real dream. Not a fable, not a metaphor, not a back-dated editorial commenting on the capture of Osama. I dreamt this. I'm writing this Sept 16, 2008, having awoken from that dream, and haven't yet checked the news. And won't before I post this. What you see is what you get.

Though that's not necessarily true of heroes.



LISTS AND LINKS: nocturnes - war - fire - birds - 9/11 attacks - politics - fundamentalists and other fanatics - predictive dreams - dream poetry - the Dreamverses project - the next Dreamverse: the Moomin Commissioners of Time -

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