The Fog of the Altar

To Jules Verne A man feeling drowse at the top of the mountain, fell asleep. He dreamed dreams emanating from floods of seas. In remote droughts, he gave his fruit of smoke on a simple altar. Curd quartz opened solidifying thousands of stamens, they glowed like the warm reflection of the stars on the sand, the man kept close watch of the r.e.m. hour. life is the strife of one baptized in the depths of all his memories, yet he forgets before awakening. Founding himself face to face with another man holding a frozen fish and a bucket, they begun the climb down, What do you fish when you fish, he asked, for a bolt of fire, said the man as he released the fish into the ground and rubbed his hands, cryogenics? no, fisherman.