In my dreams I do not read.
I talk with the famous
At tables where others interfere
With the beloved person
Who is talking with people I see on the train—
As if they could take him,
As if they could expose my hopes as vain.
I will tell you a secret if you come to my table
Near the part of the restaurant where the stairs
Once trailed downward to the stars.
The restaurant is precarious in the dream,
As if management decided outer space
Would be the proper place
For poetic guests to meet face to face.
So here was the famous poet and I,
With those others getting in the way,
A man with a ponytail, two women, a poem,
And it says what I always thought to say.



  1. Franz Wright said,

    May 31, 2010 at 3:16 pm

    Dear boys–it occurs to me that I, too, have a list of poets I am most envious of, very much like the one you are always including me in. But there are certainly not 100 of them, not living ones. That is kind of sad. FW

  2. thomasbrady said,

    May 31, 2010 at 4:42 pm

    Franz, this was a real dream, and it was Billy Collins, not you. But that’s not important…it was just a dream…

  3. May 31, 2010 at 6:12 pm

    I have also composed a list of all my favorite living poets.

    Unfortunately, I’ve only found one name to put on it.


    • thomasbrady said,

      May 31, 2010 at 9:48 pm

      Gary doesn’t like those MIDI digital poets, only analog ones…

  4. June 1, 2010 at 1:19 am


    Where have all the Bloggers gone?
    Long time passing.
    Where have all the Bloggers gone?
    Long, long time ago.
    Where have all the Bloggers gone?
    Gone to Facebook everyone.
    When will they ever learn,
    When will they ever learn?

    (apologies to Pete Seeger)


    • thomasbrady said,

      June 1, 2010 at 4:43 pm

      The blog is a more suitable medium for poets than Facebook—where clutter reigns—but the two can certainly co-exist. Scarriet continues to get lots of hits, so I’m not concerned….

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