Dream Mali

the book on harvey’s shelf

said dream mali,

i thought.

dream mali

because that’s

what i’ve done

so often

is dream of mali –

the circular guitar lines

that rise as coiled

streams of desert air

and the voices sounding

forth like

blue light rushing

i’ve dreamt of mali

and timbuktu

and fortresses of books

and other knowledge

kept only in the mind

and shared in stories

told beneath a great

desert moon or sun

dream mali

how could i not

after hearing oumou sangare

sing or ali farka toure

coax serpentine blues

from a steel string guitar?

it all rings out to me

as a dream 

even when

i’ve seen mali

in reality

like at the mca

when roswell rudd

trombone-lead

a band of percussion

and lightning marimba

through trance song

or when i hear mali drone

and ricochet
in appalachian

banjo song

i looked again at

harvey's bookshelf:
dream mail,

that was the title

dream… mail

dream mail/dream mali

perhaps each of them

brings us to the same

destination of blessing