Yellow Dawn (For Joe Pulver) Weaver of dreams. Eternal Behind the pallid mask Sitting on his throne (rust) The alleyway, wet, dark Night, thick, puddles from rain (Or tears?) Memories of book owner, grim Sweat stained shirt, toothless Cash passed, book slid Squirmed? Across counter Opened!! Vistas... Word? Words? Brightness, land scape so so so... Desolate .. 2 moons in sky? Or is it in the sea? There she is, holding a lily, so golden. Dances with love, laughter, smiles wide. He touches her, silk hair, wet kisses Of cold! Freezing! God!! Freezing Wait! Numb yes Better... So much better Awake. Dream. -Rick Powell