If Jung could tape my head,
Live in my dreams,
The drama
Of myths
Would seem mundane,
Unredeemable
In dullness.

If only in these dreams
Jung could peer,
At the corner of my images
Held for photostat.
I’d give more proof,
Send him a moment’s
Vision,
Colored,
Framed,
Shiny,
Transparent.

In every way,
Hold him fixed
Within the glory
Of my smattered thoughts.
Out of danger,
Out of want.

A fine rendition,
In standard times,
Of how my dreams are truly made.