there is this
violent hierarchy
among the life
of vision,
in the willingness
to sacrifice
its only reference—

still, the noun
echoes
the pine,

still, the windows
steam, responding
to some sun
in its masking—

everything
remains on its scale—

I am not trained
to endure frustration,
please,
tell me my dreams
do not exist—

Samuel Gilpin is a poet living in Portland, OR, who holds a Ph.D. in English Lit. from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, which explains why he works as a door to door salesman. A Prism Review Poetry Contest winner, he has served as the Poetry Editor of Witness Magazine and Book Review Editor of Interim. A Cleveland State University First Book Award finalist, his work has appeared in various journals and magazines, most recently in The Bombay Gin, Omniverse, and Colorado Review. His chapbook Self-Portraits as a Reddening Sky will be out soon from Cathexis Press.