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This poem is taken from PN Review 125, Volume 25 Number 3, January - February 1999.

Twentieth-century Dream Matthew Francis
1900-1909I am in a darkened lecture-hall
watching a magic-lantern picture
of my own head. We are all
analysing my thoughts. Freud is there,
so we watch carefully as the scene
becomes the dust and flames of a war.
As oxcarts roll, you can see my brain
turning the images into neat
haiku-like poems, What do they mean,
Freud asks, try to remember. But

1910-1919I am setting off on a journey
in a great rush of snow to the Pole.
Captain Scott is trudging beside me
when his boot gets stuck. He tries to pull
and the whole foot comes off. A band plays
Abide With Me as I watch him topple
into the wet. Then I realize
...

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