The sad dramas of the Flesh

explaining a triangle
of relationships to A___
how T___ was in love with L____
but L___ was still in love with me
as a consequence
T___ disliked me
as she believed
we were in competition
with each other
for the affections of L___
however
as I now told A___
I wanted no part of it
and as far as I was concerned
there was no romantic relationship
between myself and L___
she and I had come to an understanding
and all of this tired drama
was fabricated by T___
as a way of explaining to herself
why L___ was not returning her affections
and I
as I explained to A___
was sick to death of the whole misunderstanding
it was precisely the sort of drama
I wanted to no longer
be any part of
the end result being
my distancing and detachment
from the social world
A___ said
so that's why you've been treating us all
like horses
I didn't understand
if anything
I've been thinking of myself
as a wolf
a solitary creature
who no longer found comfort within the herd
who longed to be solitary and lone
then I thought of Animal Farm
and told her
in many of my jobs over the last 20 years
I have always seen myself as the horse
in that allegory
the creature who works himself to death
we were sitting in a kitchen
similar to the one at Inwood
my grandparent's house
where I grew up
she was across the table from me
maybe I am still the horse
I told her
but I've just wandered off
and no longer want to live in the barn
what is troubling me
as the solitary horse
is the absence of any farmer
or other humans around
those would be the gods
the fugitive gods who have left this world
all of us lesser animals
remain behind
tending to the ceremonies of the farm
a pantomime of acting as if
there were still a reason for the farm
to exist as a farm
but without the farmer and his family
there is no longer any reason
it would be better for us
to return to the wild
that's what I am feeling
that 's what it troubling me
and making me intolerant
of the sad dramas of the Flesh

Actually more like a ghost

a situation with an old friend
previous love
who now had a child
and a family and friends
surrounding her
an acute sense
of my unwelcome presence
in her world
and my awkward attempts
to make myself welcome
only serving to further
the opposite
at one point
standing in a living room
full of not my friends
and not my family
everyone involved in conversation
and I feel like I'm invisible
actually more like
a ghost

[Note: song playing in the idle moments of awakening - see previous note: For he's a jolly good fellow.]

The unexpected turn

complicated time travel scenarios
fleeting memory
of only the most trivial aspects
with a group
perhaps a family
of time travelers
but trying to blend into
the current world
working for an organization
in the future
which sends back agents
to effect change
to avert disasters
to prevent critical moments
moments in which history turned
unexpectedly
I am meeting with a group
of non-time travelers
and receive a message from an accomplice
tellling me that one of the group
knows I am a time traveler
perhaps they are another agent
from a rival organization
from a more distant future
from another thread of time
that is working to prevent me
from altering the future
I am suddenly aware that
I am now the critical factor
that  must be stopped
from trying to stop
the unexpected turn

There is an odd song that starts playing

many mornings I wake up
trying to deliberately keep my mind idle
to recollect fragments from dreams
imagine a quiet sanctuary
where the thoughts of the day
are like a bunch of sleeping dogs
who you know will be at the side of the bed
begging to be attended to
at the fist sign of consciousness
almost always in this idling state of consciousness
there is an odd song that starts playing
usually some execrable piece of pop fluff
that I wish I wasn't listening to
this has gone on for many years
an odd quirk of my brain
anyway
i thought i might keep a record of them
along with the dreams
song of the day
(and here I had to look up the title
because I mainly am hearing the melody
with bits and pieces of the words)
meow meow like a ship on the ocean
we are meow meow in the meow meow
full of love and devotion
is what I hear with all of the music
and backing vocals
So the song
is by the Hues Corporation
called Rock The Boat
actually goes:

Our love is like a ship on the ocean
We've been sailing with a cargo full of love and devotion
So I'd like to know where, you got the notion
Said I'd like to know where, you got the notion
To rock the boat, don't rock the boat, baby
Rock the boat, don't tip the boat over
Rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby
Rock the bo-o-o-oat

Adding a plausible suspect to the lacunae

another dream in which I woke up
because I forgot something in the dream
a fellow worker
specialized in studying
the work of a French poet
I could not remember
the name of the poet
when I woke up
I thought
it's Verlaine
but then was suspicious
as if I was just filling in the blank
to make myself feel better
adding a plausible suspect
to the lacunae

These forgotten moments woke me up

escaping from or running towards
some urgent destination
going down a mountain
following a stream
with another man
close friend or new acquaintance
hard to tell
realize I have a paycheck
in my back pocket
he tells me it is going to fall out
I don't care
we descend quickly
laughing at our speed
at one point
where the creek is shallow
we are riding the current
to add to our speed
later he asks me
if I still have the paycheck
I had forgotten about it
I can't find it in my back pocket
but I do find another un-cashed check
that was an advance for a speech
I was supposed to have given
that I had also forgotten
these two forgotten moments
which may have referenced
an earlier storyline in the dream
these forgotten moments woke me up

The gods are unconcerned standing there in perfect beauty

something like the property on Inwood
a house set back from the road
post-apocalyptic event
house is fenced off
guards and soldiers
I go to a huge gun on the roof
am told to watch for them
that they look like us
but that I will know
over the side
a group of people
are congregating in a fenced enclosure
climbing trees to get out
I start shooting
it is some sort of short gun
tracers and thousands of bullets
ripping apart anything they hit
I bullets cut the people in two
down the middle
exploding them
they all fall down
and there in the middle
are several people
their clothes now rags
the bullets spray against them
tearing off more clothes
but not hurting them
like a gentle spray of water
they do not even look my
just stand there discussing
something between themselves
after a while
I stop shooting them
all the humans in the pen
are in piles of bone, flesh and blood
the gods are unconcerned
standing there in perfect beauty

Only later realizing they were nests

a world abandonded
walking beside a field
perhaps my mother was beside me
sick and insane people
were standing very still
out in the field
shuffling their feet strangely
to move around
the woman I was with
was scared
I stepped out into the field
tall overgrown weeds
the ground felt spongy and strange
my mother was calling me
from the street
the insane and sick
shuffled away from where I was
I noticed a lot of bones and skulls
covered in a thick layer of dust
the ground gave way
beneath my feet
and my foot fell down
into the hollow space
beneath the ground
this seemed to trigger something
I could hear a sort of hum
in the earth
my mother was trying to walk out
I turned around
to warn her
I felt an insect crawling
around in my hair
then another on my chest
I realized the entire field
and much of the earth around it
was a huge nest
a trap for unsuspecting animals
more bugs were on me
my mother was calling me
as I awoke

I had a similar dream
not too long ago
was out in the wilderness
with some others
walking along these
giant white domes
the size of mountains
only later realizing
they were nests

It seemed like a thing from outside of the dream

an estate sale
friends of friends
people are cooking in the kitchen
vaguely familiar
older folk
those from the living facilities
a group of older sisters
walks by
flannery o'connor glasses
all of them look the same
almost identical
there is a trivia contest
in the living room
a fair number of people
a woman in front of me
calls out the wrong answer
the announcer comes over
and fines her a small amount
he leaves
she is there with her husband
crying because she has no more money
and still want to play
the game changes
now it is an eating challenge
to see who can eat the most
money
dollars or coins
some around me are practising
eating dollar bills
on the table in the hall
is an assemblage for sale
it catches my attention
I don't know what to make of it
and I am unable to remember it now
except that it seemed like a thing
from outside of the dream

None of them sounding very clever now

with one of my co-workers
from the coffee shop
looking through recent photographs
the black corner series
the sand dollar image
she says,
how would you spend
your sand dollar?
start thinking of descriptions
as clickbait:
at first
I thought it was just
a disembodied jaw
but you'll never believe
what it really was
one man found these ribs
you'll never believe
what he did with them
everyone else thought
the child was lost
it will amaze you
to discover where she was
these bones
didn't mean anything
until one man
saw them in a
different light
and the co-worker
and myself are trying
to out-clever each other
laughing
becoming more
outrageous
and as I lay there
dreaming and thinking
I realized I was alone
and woke up
and lay there
remembering the clever
things we said in the dream
none of them sounding
very clever now

The doorknob begins to glow red

I have a brother
who is possessed by the Devil
and is trying to hide it from me
I follow him into a house
he runs upstairs into his room
I follow quickly
see him duck into a closet
but a black and white
chicken comes running out
before he can close the door
the chicken walks
mindlessly down the hall
I walk to the closet door
there is no lock
I can feel him
as the Devil
on the other side
holding the knob from turning
I tell him I know
he is the Devil
that he was going to
drink the chicken's blood
to stay human
I can hear the Devil breathing
the doorknob begins to glow red

There are always more bones

another country
third world or different world
a landscape of bones
heaps and piles of bones
most broken
burned dull white
high contrast
no whole bones
broken fragments
broken pieces
everything being reduced to dust
no many souls around
sense of an end place
existential hell
I am walking along a narrow path
heading to a mausoleum structure
in the distance
no trees or grass or vegetation
a cart made of bone pulled by a mule
driven by an hooded figure
both covered in pale bone dust
clatters by
then stop at an empty intersection
the mules hooves
slide hollowly on the bone surface
they wait for a moment
then continue on
I walk to the mausoleum
inside are several people I know
sister, friend, ex-lover, companion
they are excited I am there
want to show me
the bones and skulls
that are intact and whole
a friend is talking about a skull
asks me about the Muslim call to prayer
Allāhu akbar
God is great
Lā ilāha illā-Allāh
there is no other God, but God
we talk about this
although I do not know Arabic
he wants to know how to pronounce this
and also asks me about
As-salatu Khayrun Minan-nawm
prayer is better than sleep
we are laughing
about how poor our Arabic is
my sister want to show me
a beautiful skull
chapless but not yet shattered
everything decays quickly here
everything turns to dust
but there are always more bones

To fracture on the rocks below

I was the camera in a Coen brothers' film
Lindsay Lohan in hell
followed her as she walked along a red carpet
that was flowing with images of hell and the devil
as depicted by Hollywood over the history of film
as we walked along
the images stayed with us
flashing scenes of horror
beneath our feet as we moved
Lindsay didn't recognize any of them
but I was able to place most of them
many from imaginary films of the dream
there was a sense that I knew
what was going to happen in the dream
since I was the camera
and I was able to act as a sort of Virgil
to her confusion and questions
there were many hellish inversions
of her celebrity life
paparazzi fawning over her
trying to help her
warning her
benevolent seeming Christians
with black orbs for eyes
tempting her the wrong direction
we descended into the pit
Leonard Cohen was Satan
he had a prothetic mask and wig
his mouth was fixed in a permanent howl
and a deliberately out of synch soundtrack
roared with a thousand screams
he was behind a counter
attending to some torture
he saw Lindsay and welcomed her
and we were suddenly on a plateau
on the top of a mountain
demons were throwing sheeplike creatures
over the side
breaking them like eggs
from down below a mythological god
appeared from another time
before hell
coming to rescue Lindsay
but another enormous demon
saw him and threw him down
to fracture on the rocks below

To take something away from him

a high-school girlfriend
years later in a cheap motel
shifts to a rundown dorm
another highschool friend
the one who died
sick in a room down the hall
I never see him
the girl is taking care of
the one who died
I suspect they are fucking
the door is open to my room
I am writing at a desk
I can see down the hall
I can hear the one who died
the girl has told me
to meet her in the hallway
I stand up to change
take off my jeans and underwear
then quickly put the jeans
back on
forgetting the underwear
then put the underwear
on over my jeans
realize how foolish I look
hear the girl coming down the hall
to sneak into my room
sexual atmosphere
I am trying to take my underwear off
stumbling and hopping
around the room
then I hear the one who died
calling her again
now suspicious
that she has been trying to see me
she turns around
to return to him
my underwear still outside my jeans
I feel like a fool
for hoping
to take something away from him

The books are burning

childhood home
perhaps in Mexico
but on the side of a hill
steep precipitous walls
overhanging angles
from a great height
a team of scientists
working in the backyard
because of volcanic activity
sink holes and rising ground
the hill is becoming a volcano
rising upwards
ancient graves are being pushed out of the earth
archaeologist are working to excavate
I am walking around carefully
no wanting to get in the way
there are huge pile of books
and record albums all around
as I move  down the hill
I step from each rocking pile to another
I am looking for a viking portable books
Shakespeare, Thoreau, Plato
I see several others but not those
the volcanic activity is increasing
I am suddenly very high in the air
swaying back and forth dangerously
lava is flowing below

Infinitely deep absolutely untroubled

I am driving my step-father
through a neighborhood
old Austin maybe
trying to find an address
a house where I once lived
or meeting someone
late afternoon
but intensely overcast
he and I are talking
about how low the clouds are
a strange siren sounds
Jerry asks me what it could be for
at first I don't know
but then I realize
it is a tornado siren
just then close by
between the houses and trees
as we drive
I see the tornado
it is composed of pulsing light
diamond patterns circling around
almost like a UFO
alien and strange
moving closer to us
I take a left into a warehouse area
the tornado closer
houses cars trees dirt and debris
are flying around it
the pulsing light pattern
giving off a rhythmic hum
we park at low concrete building
some sort of utility structure
there are people crowded around the entrance
we stand with them
watching the tornado approach
it seems like it is going to move safely passed us
then turns directly towards us
now the pattern on the tornado
are the bright diamonds on a snake
the tornado moves sinuous snake-like
directly towards us
I am transfixed
hypnotized
by the movement of the diamonds
as it approaches
someone pulls me inside
there is a dark hallway
we are behind a set of double metal doors
I am holding the doors closed
using all of my strength
the tornado is just outside the door
there is tremendous noise and violence outside
the doors are warping outwards
and in the openings
I can see bones and blood
churning in a vortex
I know I won't be able to hold the doors much longer
people are screaming and trying to help
the doors are now fabric stretched
my hands hold the handles together
the four hinges staking down the sides
sheets in the wind
I can see into the center
of the vortex
a churning maw of bones and blood
faces and bodyparts
and a blackness in the very center
like a still pool
reflecting nothing
infinitely deep
absolutely untroubled

There is a gate which serves no function

in a an oasis
in an enormous desert
an abandoned house
sand filling the rooms
rope candles burning
in bowls of tallow
two women with me
one older
one younger
I awaken
from a dream
they are smiling at me
I interpret it
as an invitation
this amused the younger one
makes the older one smile
one sees me
as a decrepit old man
the other as a friend
but not who
you would suspect
the older one
is playing her game
I shrug
still groggy from sleep
go outside
the the night is blue
sky full of stars
visible galaxial spray
rich fragrance of water
I walk to the edge
of the oasis
the sand dunes
erotic and sterile
there is a gate
which serves no function
but instead of walking
around it
I open it
step through
I think I hear
footsteps behind me
I think
one of the women
I turn
there is nothing
I continue on
out into the starlit
blue of the sands

The Clearing

lucidity
and thought
weaving in and out
of the dream
telling myself a story
listening to the reflection
in the mirror
his mouth speaking
mine closed
a catastrophic event
a magnetic disturbance
from within the earth
a massive Pulse of Energy
every form of magnetically
stored memory is wiped clean
the event is known as
The Clearing
triggers domino effect
all electronic chips
malfunction
Y2K scenarios times ten
decimations
financial apocalypse
power grids shut down
the first and second
worlds collapse
into chaos and anarchy
flash 100 years future
the mistrust of
written memory
machine memory
a new religion
based upon
oral traditions
of memorization
children trained
from early age
to memorize
everyone in the society
must be able
to memorize
huge amounts
of cultural relevant
information
the storyteller
the one who centers
the society
by the performance
of drama
recitation
of poetry
the speaking
of myth

A way back home

all night
wandering through
the streets of my youth
trying to find
a way
back home

The waterfall drowns out everything

dark grimy
back room
full of people
in a big city
behind a cafe
smell of diesel and grease
burned coffee
cigarette smoke
sitting down
waiting for a couple
I knew from Black Drop
to return
from a trip
feel distant
from everyone
at the table
as if they are
speaking a foreign language
but they all know me
keep looking over
to see if I will comment
I am thinking
that the world
inside of my head
my thoughts
are more real
than this world
that appears outside
of my head
I close my eyes
and can still hear them
the conversational tumult
the sound of a waterfall
the man from the couple
is saying my name
I can tell he is
concerned about me
within I am
standing on the shore
of a river
the waterfall drowns
out everything

To maintain the happy fiction of the Greater Drama

outdoor area
park or creek bed
wooden table under oaks
drinking beer
summer nights
old abandoned
elementary schools
repurposed
no doors or windows
open air
watching others
organize a music festival
groups meeting in rooms
at tables drinking beer
a general sense of chaos
two younger women
a performer and an organizer
enthusiastic but distracted
I am concerned
the organizer
is not following through
I move around
picking up the slack
making certain
bases are covered
while she laughs
at the center
of an orbit of admirers
watching me work
out of the corner
of her eye
with a sweet smile
I detect
the atmosphere of manipulation
and the performer
in another room
has me fill out the form
for her
go get her beer
while she attends
to the affections
of others
when I point out
she is short of funds
she breaks down
crying with trembling lip
says it is all the money
she has
and I figure a way
to slide the numbers
so it is not a worry
here the dream hovers
in a kind of paused cloud
I consider
the organizer
manipulates through strength
counting on me to
follow in her wake
and pick up the pieces
and the performer
manipulates through weakness
creating false drama
acting helpless
so I will work it out
to diminish
the source of drama
both seem to see me
as it were
from out of the eye holes
of their masks
both actors playing a part
acknowledging with slight nod
and narrowing of the eyes within
that they know I know
what is going on
that we are all acting
all responding as our roles require
to maintain the happy fiction
of the Greater Drama
as always
the reflective bubble
trembles and pops
into the dim dawn
of awakening

The monster has anticipated me and is waiting

just before sleep
reading Del Toro's
cabinet of curiosities
images of monsters
passing reference
in a world similar
to one of his films
building high monsters
terrorizing the city
convoluted plot lines
moving from place to place
billboard images
projected onto the sky
tied in with songs on the radio
enormous shadows of the monsters
against a field of stars
with a group of refugees
in a house
if we stay inside
they can't see us
watching a turtle shaped monster
flying over the tops of buildings
another with a long beak
poking into the superstructure
of a skyscaper
pecking out people like ants
an image of it resting
for a moment
silent and still
blood covered beak
inside the building
the eye towards me
dull and unseeing
then screaming and roar
another nearby
everyone is inside the house
running from window to window
trying to see it
it is too large to grasp
its legs larger than the tallest building
I want to see its face
go outside
hugging tight to the side of the house
under the eaves
peering out to look up
it seems to be able to notice
each and every human face
bending down to demolish and devour
I keep making quick looks out
the monster is moving closer
thousands die with each step
I edge around the corner
look up and see its face
as large as the prow of battleship
lined with fire and teeth
opening spasmodically
prehistoric skull associations
ancient shark beasts
eyes black primal evil
rows upon rows of teeth
it sees me
moves closer
thundering the sky
shuddering the earth
tearing houses apart
with casual glance
I am pressed back up
against the wall
the burning oven
of its breath
like a hurricane around me
I know it knows where I am
this evil intellect
with its height
looks down on the house
as a whole
still cannot see me
under the eaves
I shuffle around
as it nears
it is looking for me
cat and mouse game
I move one way
then go back the other
the monster has anticipated me
and is waiting

I can feel the dead one that is there with me

in an old house
living there with someone
recent and from years ago
a girl comes over to interview us
a sudden dimming
and then darkness
as if we had just been talking
and the sun went down
discussions about death
the smell of death
a joke about the litter box
for the cat
the interviewer wants to see
this seems silly to me
we walk into the utility room
there are strange cup pipes
in our hands
metal surrounded by thick rubber
the interviewer is there for a moment
and then gone
now it is completely dark
I am leaning casually against the sink
holding my strange cup pipe
think I am talking to someone
but there is no one there
I call out to the person I live with
no answer
then I call out to the interviewer
no answer
I think maybe
they went back
into the living room
I start to leave
but become disoriented
and am still in the utility room
thinking about the smell of death
I call out to the interviewer
hallie, hallie, hallie
no answer
but someone is coming
I can hear them in the darkness
and now I am slightly lucid
in the dream
and I realize I am calling the dead
there is dim light on the horizon
an evening
I can see shadows forming
I call out again
hallie, hallie, hallie
and someone is there
with me in the darkness
more lucid now
in the dream
almost awake
I can feel the dead one
that is there with me
the one named
hallie

Mirror only as I am waking

a scene that kept repeating
even remember writing this down
at a school
trying to save something
words on the walls
floating in air
μιρρορ
thought it was
the name of a corporation
groups of people
different but the same configuration
all turning to look at me
during the drama of it all
police investigations
high-school classrooms
old workplaces
the same "actors" involved
playing different roles
again and again
waiting until a critical moment
in the unfolding of the dream
to stop and quietly look at me
the dreamer
the only other constant is the word
μιρρορ
which I figure out is a transliteration
for mirror
only as I am waking

I deliberately killed her

setting up a sound system
at an Indian reservation
desert setting
trashed out New Mexico
running wires
into the public center
covert elements
black wires
into painted-over tubes
in the outer wall
go inside to find them
like a city council chamber
a shallow amphitheater
wires are in a maintenance closet
trying to find a connection
a bomb explodes
in the chamber
many people killed
know now that I am a suspect
then it is night
I am driving a group
of young children and teenagers
to a poetry event
they all look up to me
I notice the car behind me
doesn't have its lights on
as other cars pass by
coming towards us
I can see malevolent features
illuminated in the headlights
I am watching in the rear-view
we approach a small lake
I slow to turn
and the car rams us from behind
the van goes into the water
I bump my head
it is daylight out now
the van is under water
upside down
water is filling the interior
the children are struggling
to get out
blood is in the water
two of them are floating peacefully
looking out a window
then they gently float up
one child is a savant
floating upside down
contemplating the world
I take hold of the child
and we swim to the surface
on the shoreline
the child is now dead
I know everyone will believe
I deliberately killed her

Not see become

the interrogator
the process of torture
born out of a dream
long ago in Morocco
he studies me patiently
states he wishes to add a chapter
to our mutual exploration of pain
much like the Waterfall and Monkeys of Zeshin
or the Scroll of the Nine Dragons by Chen Rong
you know these, of course
framed images in the room now
he indicates Zeshin
note the water is unpainted
it is not even there
the lines of ink
merely contain the absence
the most dynamic, energetic
moments are the most empty
the paper underneath
unpainted, untouched
he passes his hand lightly
over the rocks below the monkeys
you can almost feel the water
rushing through your fingers
he walks over to the wall length scroll
now observe the dragons
swirling out of the spirals
of mist, of fog, of clouds, of time
of nothing
again everything is born
out of this nothing
you can see the dragons
clawing their way through
almost fighting their way out of it
this self-knowledge of having been created
conjured, summoned into form
note how the dragons grasp hold
of this nothing
in particular the one to the right of the central vortex
holding what appears to be a crystal ball
a circle containing all of the energies of time
what is most powerful
is the absence of anything
within the circle
the paper, the background,
the ground of being we take for granted
is all that is within this sphere
being held within the dragon's claws
I say nothing
he studies me
says, perhaps I am belaboring my point
he motions to two guards next to me
they lift me up and place me
into a trunk full of cotton wadding
my hands and my feet are bound with rope
I am curled into a fetal position
in order to fit tightly within the trunk
cotton wadding is packed tightly
around my body
it is impossible to move
the interrogator sits in a chair
leans over so his face is close to mine
it is almost comfortable
he takes small pieces of cotton
packs them tightly around my head
says, one might imagine the womb
and here he places a black rubber device in my mouth
a long tube runs into a coil he holds in his hand
he fastens a buckle around my head
holding the device in my mouth
he takes two pieces of cotton
and gently inserts them into my nose
the tubing is narrow
and it difficult to get enough breath
he continues to place cotton
all around, packing me tightly into the trunk
I am trying to get enough air
he whispers into my ear
it is important that you not panic
I want, he tells me, you to imagine
the negative space of Zeshin
to know the power of the dragons
to understand in a profound and intimate sense
how much energy is contained within
the absence of a thing
that is always present
and here the lid of the trunk is closed
and I can hear latches being locked
it is becoming hot
I am trying not to panic
to remain calm
to not let him win
to not allow him to break me
the trunk is lifted
and turned so I am now head down
I feel all of my blood
pushing into my skull
I breath through the narrow tube
as evenly as possible
I am very hot
sweat pooling in my ears
trying to breath more air
seems to constrict the rubber tube
so I have to force myself to take slow breaths
suddenly there is no air
I cannot breath in or out
I can see the Interrogator in my mind
casually holding the end of the tube shut
between his thumb and finger
as he contemplates
the Japanese prints in the wall
on the verge of passing out
he releases his grip
I am so desperate for air
that the tube seems always sucked shut
I have to slow my breathing
my blood is pounding in my head
I seems to float in this thick and suffocating
cotton womb tomb
the Interrogator repeats this process
of asphyxiation over and over
keeping me conscious
but with never enough air
but with just enough
I long to either pass out
to die
or for just one last time
to breathe deeply
just one last breath
I imagine the Waterfall with Monkeys
the empty spaces between the water
full of space of air of nothing
I long to breath in that nothingness
and like those images
where the foreground is hidden in the background
I suddenly see the dragon
not see
become

Says it is a cat

complicated and involved scenario
old co-workers and customers
from the coffee shop
set around this time of year
Christmas lights put up
spelling out with bad letters
my sisters initials and mine
in the garage
I discover a caterpillar centipede creature
crawling on a table
it has huge antler pinchers
it is pure white
the antlers are black
it's body is about six inches long
the antlers are about the same length
I call the co-worker over to take a look
use a stick to prod the creature
it grabs the stick with some force
pulls it away from me
retreating back across the table
with it in its pinchers
I try to grab it back
and it moves it away from me
I am careful not to get stung / bit
then it becomes a white cat
with a black caterpillar centipede
in its mouth
and I am worried
it will try to eat the insect
and get stung
I am running around
trying to get it to spit the insect out
I say it is so fast
it moves like a cat
and the co-worker laughs
says it is a cat

I noticed a lot of fallen leaves

a gentle soul
an an artist, DW
a man who used to paint watercolors
in the coffeeshops and bars
gives me a ride
I wasn't hitchhiking
he saw me on the side of the road
I was heading to a Mexican Food place
in a strip mall
as he was driving
he somehow
was able to place
one of his bare feet
against my face
his feet were clean
didn't smell
I acted as if it were nothing
then he moves the foot around
to block my eyes
I moved my head
no wanting to offend him
he seemed amused
at my response
this went on for the entire ride
I complimented him
on what nice feet he had
I was still grateful
for the ride
and it was good to see him again
after he dropped me off
I was in a stranger's backyard
I knew that I had to go
to caregiving soon
and would be right back
but I wanted to see
how the seeds I had planted
were doing
my sister and mother
had placed little signs
indication what each seed was
a few had sprouted
I noticed a lot
of fallen leaves
around the yard

Like I appeared from nowhere

somewhere in Africa
at a rural school
students, teachers, dream people
making audio recordings
part of a class project
I am out in the savannah
red dry dirt
thorny scrub bush
recording sounds from a small nest
several feet away
I hear movement
a larger animal
I freeze listening
through the amplification
of the microphone
a lion cub emerges
from the bush
he is playful
doesn't seem to notice me
I realize they are listening
back at the school
whisper there's a lion
I back slowly away from the nest
which now is a small tree stump
I am about ten feet away
the cub rubs his face on the stump
then his ass and balls
I can see his penis emerge
marking the territory
now I hear an adult lion
stirring in the brush
I keep backing away
they still haven't noticed me
I can smell the rut of the lion
the animal odor of the fur
I keep thinking
if I walk slowly backwards
never turning my back on them
trying not to stumble
I will not be attacked
still no sign of the adult lion
but I can sense it is right there
if it emerges while I am close
it will attack me
when I am about 100 yards away
I finally turn the other way
I turn and begin to run
now it seems I can hear
what is going on at the school
sounds of chaos and terror
I worry the lion
has found the school
I come to a road
I am standing on an embankment
above the road
a strange creature
like nothing I have seen before
pale white with more than four legs
fur and hide
is lumbering downy the road
I don't know if it will attack me
when I jump down
if it is like a lion
or it it is like a cow
I jump down
and am relieved to realize
it is more like a cow
it just stares at me
like I appeared from nowhere

We are all joking around

another investigation
convoluted complex
tracking down the killer(s)
one of the investigators
is in the bathroom
putting on golden hair dye
like the killer
to show how it was done
we are all joking around
with each other

The gruesome investigation

out in the country
summer camp scenario
a lake near Dallas
a group of old friends
now police investigators
come out there
because of a mass murder
I am out there
for complicated reasons
but I am not the murderer
I know if they find me
they will think
I murdered everyone
so I am hiding from them
more police arrive
and head into
the interior of the camp
my friends are leaving
handing over
the gruesome investigation
I take this opportunity
to try and escape
while I am hiding behind a car
a tiny portable radio catches
the wavelength of the station
and starts playing music
I silence it
no one has heard it
but a few seem to look over
in my direction
I get the car started
and tear out over the fields
as I am driving
out onto the road
I see the several men and women
and I know they
are the true murderers
but I need to reach my friends
before they do
and tell them
my side of the story