I saw Oneiros the other night
	in wavering robes;
	by the oreos he stood,
	black and white, in aisle
	17.

	Muzak a greek khoros raised
	      in  chanting praise; the hum of freezers
	cantus firmus for
	         his Dionysian glory,
	    cobweb madness,  eyes like
	grains of sand unraveling the mind's coils
his
	white wristbones so sad
	  and ordinary

	In kinship with flourescents 			and
	Zen    Janitor     Dan. . .
	listen 
	    to the
	junkie 			  		drifter  			
			dream weaver
    homeless 				bum 
	    		  knitted of
moonlight
	'look      away,'  a 		woman 		
	     			 whispers:
	       ashamed      by         his 		gaze
of                                               clarity
and 		
			madness;




	now lingering

				tatterdemalion,

a half-remembered revalation
	
		in dairy and produce.