This is a promise

That around raging campfire,

Under moon and stars,

Away from crackling Tesla and Edison

I will regale you with stories

And song and dance

Such that peonies

Dance on the insides of your eyelids

For all eternity.

I will be your bard,

Your dreams psychopomp

And rift real-life glints

Into the arrowed shafts of day.

Let me sleep

And regain

My Regalia:

A Velveteen Cloak of Stars

That Fondants

Over Consciousness

In layers

Careening and Dreading

The Melt and the Wake

like a Snowman in

Sub-Capicornican

March.

Here is the story:

There are so many;

So where shall we Begin?