XVI/VI

(All the writing in this set was based on dreams. For more info,
please read: 'An Explanation - 25 Dreams'.)

Firing red balls,
tiny, gobstopper planets,
out of a water-pistol
and into a bright yellow sun
like a tennis ball.

I fire them through the solar system,
through oceans of space,
the length of my arm.

Shards come off the red planets like spray;
mountain chips as fine as salt,
red graves.

I watch as I cast myself down into a silo,
Tumbling over and over, staring up at myself.

Reborn as an actor;
a different role
in the same tragic play.