Inside Of A Sleep

You have gone.  There is no now,
just used to;
cement packed into Earth fragments.
Ironic, it is, that solidity above the surface
is made from what lies beneath.

Think about – oh how you can’t!
I miss that.
Poor baby.
You try to kill me again,
and again,
to show me something new,

a new world inside of sleep.
Is this how it is for you?
A permanent anywhere,
where you never are, but were?

I miss that what it was
will not, and never be anything
but you and me, asleep inside of a
sleep.

Am I New

Flapping tongue, to change your name, to change yourself,
to change,
to change,
you say it’s smoking time, maybe if the zone changed,
but we run on desert time,
at devil lake
I wish I was, a reservoir, I wish I was a dog,
rolling in the dirt, a tumble weed,
collecting time and breeze,
in the hustle
rolling,
changing,
flapping in my sleep to change position, to change disposition,
to change,
I meditate, a trumpet sounds,
an angel sings, is it me?
Did I work? Did the clock split my tongue
and now I am two?
Am I new?

Three Minutes In

Three minutes in – I am a dream.
Have you ever been met
by a mirror? Twisted like
eyebrows in confusion.
Steel eye compartments
ready for battle.

Nail my head to the floor,
my only choice is to look up
to neighbors…
to enemies.

The minutes slice off the clock
as we talk – I am imaginary.
She sees me with her husband,
white t-shirt sucked to my
chest, wet from digestion –
I am the dark apple.

My bags are packed, my body
on 90 miles per hour.
The hidden highway – I carve three minutes in-
distressed almond skinny
dipping in shame.
Have you seen me today?
Have you looked in the mirror?

In A Dream

Pig snouted soldiers strut
like heavy cannons,
over dry wild desert weeds

I tumble behind a boulder
maybe twelve or thirteen
I had not met the cycle yet
of Mother Earth and her Moon

The others slept in the madhouse
where echoes of screams
jumped from wall to wall

I tried to burn all of us down
once, melting us into a boiling
ooze where we could flow
together the right way

but she caught me and
I was sentenced to the garden
living off tomato bugs
and raw onion

This was when there was something
now it is this
desolate; sepia spotted trap.

I closed my eyes behind the giant rock
begging the shadow to suck
me into its safe home
It whispered that I was not ready
that my temples were froze

That’s when I heard their cries
mother and brother being
cooked alive
I opened my eyes and
the pig snouted soldier snatched
the dark hole from my face

I am awake.

Away With The Night

You who are with me,
who ache with me, please,
lay still, hold your breathing –
we are sinking
we sink,

beneath wings of bad mothers,
through sad voices of home
our dead limbs fall off,
our bones sleep on their own.

You who are with me,
who are silent at night,
who separate stars, who burn with out light

hold on
hold on
to the hands of these words
we are sinking
we sink

through this very dry Earth.
God isn’t softening,
we are starved by disease,
by darkness, by deepness
of the valley’s between us.

You who are with me,
who ache life away, lay still,
hold your breathing,
hold on to your life,
we are sinking
we sink

away with the night!

Wings Of Amity

Is my dead name happening?
September, my quickest friend.
Who waits for who?

Each night, your hands part my lips,
delivering the wise bees.
My throat tickles from his telling wings,
his impossible story
about how God will forget me.

His fierce wildness
will throw thunder, while I drift
on wings of amity
he will strike! My veins will crumble,
my body will become
an old abandoned city
for his merciful army.

The bees cry in agony,
a storm threatens them now
as I dream
of nothing past September.
I am sick with fate,
but rise to courtesy.
The bees and their sweet story
do not abandon.
My grateful knee to the Earth,
I whistle out the bees.
Their freedom, my peace.

 

Oh

Oh, dear Satan, your delicious
merchandise finds me
tender.

I am a raw sunflower gasping for
clean air, for rare light
to open my thin arms
and feed my beginning.

I could be a generous gift,
a miracle fragrance in the breeze
of a season,
but I was stomped deep
in the Earth, fed on by worms
before I knew how to dream.

When dreams slipped in to my feeble
stem, they were
manipulated, filling my roots with
poison.
Now, I sleep with deadly seeds
growing in my brain, too weak to survive
cold seasons,
surrendering to dark demons, until
spring brings back
the warm light of hope.

A Secret

“There is a dream outside. 
I am dark and imagined and 
I can’t wake up….”

I have forgotten how I write.
My voice is with the calendar,
in the cemetery,
dusting off a bottle. The sun has moved
in on this town,
drying up oranges,
turning water to dust.

Today, I am a reflection.
A left over.

The wind is locked.
My phone is dead.
People have stopped watching.
I am underground,
away from cancer and traffic.

“…and the dream is inside, too.”

Light is nothing, not even artificial.
The birds are an alarm;
God’s warning.
If someone could crush my hand with
a hammer, I could stop all this.

The world is stretching.

I want my voice back.

The Under Water

Dreams are being dreamed
in the fog, tonight
I am a wanderer. Lost
with Fish Ghost’s, sleeping
under the sea.

I have forgotten how to breathe,
not quite forgotten –
It is destiny that calls me.

Wake me up from this walking dream!
Windows here are lucid paintings, in my head
I step into acrylic gardens, abstract
daylight, fading from realism,
a genuine art.

I am not free.
The glass captures me;
a rock spirit holds me in, forced air
thick like the sea, I cannot breathe!

And dreams are being dreamed
while the fog rolls in, white cotton torment
filling my lungs, I choke on
the Ghosts of Love, Envy, and Trust
while the dreamers
sleep with safety locks on their throats.

Where do they sail off to in
their midnight ships?
To the high deserts of the moon?
To the warm geysers of the North Star?

I want to close my eyes and follow
their pretty foot prints through
Sand Man’s castle and out to rest high
on constellations.
I want to be cradled in a comfortable Mother.
I want to swallow the Milky Way
without choking on Universal Decay.

I want to dream what the sweet dreamer’s dream,
instead of sinking deep
and deeper
into the black cold of the under water.

Just A Dream

The vile’s are filling from the back of my knee.
One full of life, a gifted excretion,
the other full of poison, waiting to take the former’s place.

I am set out to chill. Overnight. Alone.
I don’t mind except that the
sounds become so loud
and all the movements in all the world
become heavy like a rock.

I used to dream that I stepped out upon
the softest land,
barefoot,
soaking comfort in through my pores.
How quickly the dead tree branches would poke
up and stab me at from
beneath the peaceful ground.

I used to dream, but now silence
sharpens itself in my ear.
It is a carved loneliness, perhaps from
the other side of the grave
where the ones I love have finally made room
to love me back.

This side of life ties me to boulders and
smashes my ankles with hammers.
My bone fragments roam about
under my skin
wondering where they belong.
They cry out to me, but I
do not know where they go.
They are just fragments,
and I am just a dream.