but something already gone glitters
so this soft pen now tries to lift
from the dream of a fish who is
determined to explore the dry
and those waves now gentle reach and
just here set a small movement in
motion that may more or less
resolve into something like melody
though even today as the winds
wild what survives seems sufficient
miracle to keep these sails tight
for a moment while I try to
gather a few parcels of silence
they say it’s worth more than gold
Tag: dream
-
-
And this question of how leans into the
darkness inside our attempts to start a
fire, this apple, this bamboo in a pot.
How far can we trust it when we turn our
backs? How red is my red, really? And doand do you notice it in the brochure
you couldn’t put down and kept hidden so
or was it this squirming dream of again
unwittingly shared though months passwithout anyone mentioning it
anyway, the event was full of sweet
words gentle smiles from about five paceswe knew we would likely never see each
each other again on any timeline
-
In January the tea on
my thin undusted desk as my
neighbor again starts to exercise
looked so stomp thud woozy stomp I
wanted to run to some mountainbut instead retreated upstairs
to a cool toilet and sat where
from the open window from the
courtyard come echos melodiessplash ring soar sink bouncing off white tile
on all sides of this cave to remind
but the dream broke when the crow saidit reminded him of a lost draft of
my novel destined for obscurity
-
The feel of cold river stones in the hand
on that one day when… Or, well, anyway,
maybe some music, some dinner, a tale
that turns on some jade pivot but the pen
drops and rolls towards that corner of myrusty cheese-grater head. So, tomorrow?
It’s OK. He’s not a real doctor. Wait,
were we talking about you or me? No.
Something with zucchini, I suppose. Whenthose noises had stopped I felt I was just
about to remember a mineable
dream, and I don’t want to be a bore, soonce the cicadas have emerged we’ll leave
town for another dozen years or so
-
Fragment 35
wanted. And I wanted all
the toys. There was always
some commercial or catalogbase of this house here you see where the original foundation was laid and this line is where builders had some kind of cozy dream 100 to 150 years later or it may have been a fire or perhaps something we have no language for or understanding of and so if you look and keep looking we can steadily unravel how the building grew from egg to newt through adolescence to senescence not of course quite the same as looking at an old tree its dependable circles always circling but perhaps like a person in that we do sometimes grab
that would feed my greed for
new garbage. And even if I had gotten
all of it, would I have felt any better? I think wehold to the love of a season and bolt it on to ourselves hoping it might give us another internal closet a bigger bathroom a better view past those irritating neighbors from a tastefully ornate balcony but we also need to be aware of what we’re building towards and what our foundations are made of but yes maybe it would be simpler to keep the trees in mind and start the whole thing over from the roots or look at the growth of a quartz crystal if it’s a particularly dark day with some drizzle in which you want to
know the answer. And then I think,
in the past, when I’ve gotten something
I had desperately wanted the excitementfeel a bit of brightness at your core the feeling that you too could become someone on your chosen stage and when you speak people drop their phones and look in your direction maybe our example needs a quantum of precision in order to neatly fit in the hole left by the puzzle pieces whose homes we have already discovered the right void needs the right bit of the garden shed and that tiny edge of cloud that makes it pop and the deeper green of the grass in the background however we must start here in the mottled foreground
wore off quickly. So I don’t know that I can blame
my childhood. Maybe this is the way I’m builtwhere we stand and the simplest way to go about is sometimes all we need I think well no one likes a know-it-all and that fact has led to irreparable wounds and bruises yes all self-inflicted but what is it that you fear some unkind remark or the sound of nothing who can blame you but somehow we have to find a way to keep letting the world know that we’re here and still waiting for the secondary elaboration as promised in several recent communications so can we touch base on that first thing Monday morning please and thank you
or programmed or whatever. But no
matter what the cause, I have to face
and come to terms with it.[And click here if you’d like to take the plunge.]
-
Sonnet
having made peace with the rocks that
I call shoes, grown accustomed to
the furry creatures living in
my sinuses and the shows they
watch into the deep oven nightI watch one fork of lightning free
the tree that dropped only small sour
fruit, and return to arranging
oyster shells to resemble a
wave and ask is this the dream it’sso quiet here it’s hard to hear
the song of my empty stomach
or the rattle of the bones of
the dead like pills stuck in my throat
-
music from an escaping dream or an undigested night in which we finish the great & clever expense reports designed to ensnare the accountant of the faerie king
-
All the Parts
I
as in a dream in which we must play all the parts but self-consciously the work doubles and suffers as he turns to drink and loose video gamesbut unlike this dark wood newly sprung up around the house the chance of coffee or anything decent for lunch recedes
when we were stranded beneath the white waves it was only those voracious years of romance novels that saved the ship and sailors
so once properly cooled and decorated the cake of my previous actions could still prove delicious
it was never meant to last as long as it has though some seeds only sprout after a fire we never knew needed so much tending
and we started off so strong but whether we like it or not we’re in a purely habitual forest now
perhaps this is what the song is really meant to be about or could be under slightly different meteorological conditions
II
a dream self-consciously suffers loosewood around the house of coffee or anything for lunch
beneath the waves of romance novels that
decorated the cake of my previous could
as long seeds sprout a fire so
strong whether we like it or not
perhaps this is what is meant to be
III
as in a dream we play all the doubles and drink this dark coffee beneath waves only years of romance novels saved my previous actions never meant to last as long as though some started off strong we’re in a purely habitual song about slightly different conditionsIV
in a dreamthis dark house
beneath waves
my previous actions
after a fire we knew
started off in
perhaps this song
-
Three Dreams
some strange squash
I don’t know how to cook
they hand melike a prize
though they won’t let
me text
someone I need tourgently
watching
the clock…
My punishment was just.
Though I had no
memory of the site they
said I visited. The onethat made the commuter
jet come crashing down. But
for some reason I could not
deny the charge. I tellthem I would like to be
hanged, but they say they
don’t do that anymore.…
We talk to the chef/owner of this
sushi/chocolate shop
and tell herbecause we’re friends
about another meal
we enjoyed recently then
she’s notpaying much
attention maybe because
she’s busy preppingshe says we should be
carefulof the knives in the
other place I want to
ask what she means and
other animals 