Jan. 10, 1974
6:40 p.m. 
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Religion Pt. One
If the monster dream will ever come true and grant each of us the wishes we have saved away We might forget the grief which presses heavily upon our being. If poems could predict our lives then we could sit in alabaster towers with our poem-books writing about our next day's experiences. But our monster dream never peeks it's head above our consciousness and poems remain wisps of thought. And life maps her course for us as we try to finish the puzzle with what pieces she gave us. So we wonder what we will be like at our highschool ten-year reunion and will someone mean as much to us as we hope they will? Mannequin people, line the corridors shaking each other's hands and push you back to the end of their line. We try like hell And they still wave Bibles in the distance.
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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