Here is the dream-----
We exchange skin, off our backs
& everywhere else.
Painful grafts, vacuum sealed,
Heal with scars a reminder
Until the new flesh is eggshell smooth…

But would skin be enough,
That of humans, animals, plants?
Love, we disfigure each other
Surely as land, as air,
& these basic components elemental
To each thing living
Has a language it is essential
To know.

Listening in then, to the bones,
Those concertinas, to the organs,
The blood, that landscape of instruments…
Fifes, washboards & tom toms-----
I want to transfer a telepathy
For that weather & climate.
I want to hold the sores, discover
Blow-holes & mouths, the passages
Understanding envisions
By feeling we really are someone
Something else, & the next-----

A world then, a world here
Or disorder harmonizing
Infused with insight
& each view meaning the future.

About the Poet

Stephen Mead is a published artist, writer, and maker of short collage films living in NY. His most recent release of poetry and art is entitled "Our Book of Common Faith", an exploration of world cultures and religions in a search for what creates bonds instead of division.