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A Tribute to Ray Bradbury

Is that you, Cecy?

Are you again gazing thru beaded eyes of a dark wet crayfish…

Maybe giggling the lyrical voice of a teenage girl stirring love for the very first time?

You, the only dream traveler from a large family of magical creatures…

Aunt vampires, uncle werewolves, cousin witches and unknowable invisible relatives.

Among all those, you alone with the power to infiltrate minds

Animating those who become your hosts.

And yes, I know…

When I read those words revealing your visits and dreams, Cecy, I do recognize their true source.

The words…the thoughts, the destinations, your secret visits

Those were all the Bradbury ideas, the Bradbury words, the Bradbury dreams and notions.

It is Bradbury who created you, Cecy…so I know when I speak of you

In truth I owe him for exploding brain bubbles and new chimeras of mind.

When I used to daydream travel in my younger days, Cecy…was that you?

When I subconsciously put crayon to paper and splashed brush to canvas, Cecy…was that you?

When I took the taxidermy head of a Whitetail deer and fixed it to my sculpture, Cecy…was that you?

Where are you now when a brain that has begun to ossify still recalls the lost days of alchemy?


Cecy?

Are you there?

 

G.J.G.

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