The End of Dreams
Floyd Skloot
A creative nonfiction writer, poet and fiction writer whose work has received three Pushcart Prizes, a Pen USA Literary Award, two Pacific NW Book Awards, and an Independent Publishers Book Award. His writing has been published in the New York Times Magazine, Atlantic Monthly, Harper's Poetry and many other distinguished journals.
Skloot has written four books of memoir about his struggle with, and recovery from, a virus he encountered in the late 1980's which severely affected his neurological functions. A fifth book on this subject will be published in March. After reading three of these four books I had the privilege of meeting Floyd in his home in Portland, and came away with the refreshed feeling of being with a remarkable human being.
The End of Dreams is sad on the surface - but inspiring and uplifting
He wakens knowing this to be the day
his hopeless singing voice at last will sound
exactly like the young Robert Goulet.
It is the day for him to touch the ground
as only noble Fred Astaire has done
before, and only once, and with someone
perfect in his arms. He will be able
to accompany himself on the grand
piano by sight bass hand and treble
hand like swallows in flight, each magic hand
nimble and light as the air that trembles
with the music he will make at the end
of all his dreams. It feels simple and right
to draw in all the air he can, to grow
still then soar. Now they all stand around
his bed, in tears, and he sees the pure light
that means the time has come for him to sound
the first note, take the first step, and let go.
copyright by Floyd Skloot
his hopeless singing voice at last will sound
exactly like the young Robert Goulet.
It is the day for him to touch the ground
as only noble Fred Astaire has done
before, and only once, and with someone
perfect in his arms. He will be able
to accompany himself on the grand
piano by sight bass hand and treble
hand like swallows in flight, each magic hand
nimble and light as the air that trembles
with the music he will make at the end
of all his dreams. It feels simple and right
to draw in all the air he can, to grow
still then soar. Now they all stand around
his bed, in tears, and he sees the pure light
that means the time has come for him to sound
the first note, take the first step, and let go.
copyright by Floyd Skloot