Forgot the dream that led me to the cane But how the rattle tempts me Wide and scraping Sit and dry Make mica on your skin Divide your forearm Like a stack of yellow news Muscovite sheath Thick billfold fray New glinting slots the sun can breach The cane flares open Just before a hill I see the bronze plate water Gleaming Flawed like pollen settled and was cast A spectrum frozen flat Upon the gleam Now gold has turned to black Frogs pierce the ear I'm in the cane Forgot the dream that led me here