Poem for Roberto Bolaño (1953-2003)

in the dream fragments
of images gather
and condense, contract

your figure emerges
then suddenly stops
a red shirt, jacket
the color of jade,
glasses that frame eyes
as radiant suns

you greet me with smiles,
no introduction
we know each other
how can this be, R.?
i’ve read your books and
you’ve been dead four years

maybe you saw me
as my eyes gazed down
on your words, pages
like paned-glass
where through the author
watches his reader
as he constructs faith
line by line by line

as the dream went on
you decided to live
up the street from me
in a house painted
in red and jade tones
like your quirky clothes

roberto, you’re close
like a good neighbor
each day I’ll visit
do you read me? good
we will be fine friends
come by whenever

you already do, ghost,
author, companion

help me build a porch
for my citadel
a new addition
to my home you built
long before we met

Jon Curley (© 2007)