untitled 25

what is the source of these dreams

_d

____e

_____sc

_______end

___________in

______________g

nightly, these sweaty immemories
lingering like dew before sunrise?

i see scenes of seas forgotten
decisions unmade

the ink black turmoil

the subconscious frothing

its way to

 __________  _  _______   _  ___  _________________  _  _____  _  ________

___________________________the surface_____________________________ _________________  _  _______   _  ___  _________________  _  _____  _  ________  ______ __________  _  _______   _  ___  _________________  _  _____  _  ________  ______ __________  _  _______   _  ___  _________________  _  _____  _  ________  ______ __________  _  _______   _  ___  _________________  _  _____  _  ________  ______ __________  _  _______   _  ___  _________________  _  _____  _  ________  ______ __________  _  _______   _  ___  _________________  _  _____  _  ________ 

etching its way through the dreamscape:

a trail of breadcrumbs

that leaves me hungry

and restless in the morn'

untitled 9

flashes and waves
hours and days
run together (now)
as often as they run
apart. i dreamed
last night of a life

that wasn't. one that might have been if the winds had blown a little more

softly. it was no

different than this one,

except that it wasn't.

untitled 14

1 room
1 elephant
1 weekend

2 plays

2 days

2 dinners

5 diners

we push food around

until, magically, our bellies

are full and palates dry

time dilates

plates are cleared

s

t

i

l

l

Monday looms

untitled 32

an onymous freeway exit

numb.er 32

appears prophetic

on a Saturday afternoon
drive to Miami

trauma yields repetition yields trauma yieldsrepetitionyields 

change

we do not turn
but it lingers:

numb.er 32

appears, prophetic

untitled 13

pre

sence

ab

sence

a day forgotten
number.s familiar
set adrift on memory

bliss

stolen songs from childhood

resurface in the most 

unexpected places

Last night's dream and soundtrack

Press play, then continue...

Dream of a giant collegiate cafeteria.  The ages of students range from mid-teens to late-twenties,  and Foster the People's "Pumped Up Kicks" is pulsing over the sound system. I notice first and second-year co-eds moving their hips to the music, unconsciously playing their part in the mating ritual that gives rise to birth that gives rise to death that gives rise to birth that gives rise to...

(whisper, "liberation")

I see them age ten years in the blink of an eye, twenty more in the time it takes to take a deep breath. I see them not as young beautiful bodies, but as old beautiful spirits, trapped inside an aging decaying form...

 (whisper, "nothing")

The food on the buffet is overcooked and lifeless. I search ardently for something that isn't meat, futilely for vegetables that aren't oversteamed and drowning in cheese. In the corner I see my boss, alone at a booth under a stairwell. She is sitting alone with two glasses of red wine, both hers, and a pay telephone on the table. 

(whisper, "awake")

untitled II

These shadows are our lives
stretching towards eternity.

The ocean wave of liberation
breaking, receding, never
quite touching the toes.

I watch the shadows grow longer
reaching for the surf –

The  sun going down behind me,
my shadow becomes
indistinguishable from nightfall.