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Meta
Tag Archives: dream
The Wonder Years
We are here but briefly, fingered skeins and finite exhales threaded within a spiraling fable of ordered repetitions and infinite respiration— We are the supplest of gilded elegies, membered to the magnetic cause of wake and dream.
Bolano and Me
Last night I dreamed of Roberto Bolaño. Or he of me. We were sitting at a dimly lit café, a subterranean plot of a café, and Bolaño was drinking chamomile tea. In the latter stages of his life chamomile tea … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged boxing, cafe, chamomile tea, chile, creative-writing, dream, fiction, Literary, literature, poem, Poetry, roberto bolano, writer's life, writing
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Wanderland
There is no journey. Only myths in which we fit our lust to wander.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged dream, haiku, journey, mythology, pilgrimage, poem, wanderlust, [poetry
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Encore
Kill someone in your mind. Bring them back to life. Throw a party to celebrate their resurrection. Do the same thing again, replacing someone with you, and mind with dream.
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged dream, mental state, mind stuff, poem, Prose, resurrection, think tank, words
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Going
From the series, Japan Poems. In spaces between, we are supported to dream– Distance knows no bounds.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged clouds, dream, ferry, japan, niigata, poem, sado island, ship, sky, space
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Girl, Flame
She is there. She is always there, in the corridor. And she is lonely. This much I know. Lonely as a form of cold that you cannot cover with blankets or insulate against with coats and scarves and such. And … Continue reading
Into the Blue
I have been scratching at air since I was a child, and have had the good fortune of feeling into words that have fallen out of thin blue nowhere– And these words I have gathered, or to put it more … Continue reading
The Dream Outward
I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. It helps. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it makes things worse. Or keeps everything the same. Which is a different kind of worse. Anya I long to reach you only because I … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged boy, childhood, dream, girl, grief, John Biscello, love, no man's brooklyn
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Door
There is a legend of a door hidden from hearts– How stones, unturned, scar.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged door, dream, heart, John Biscello, mexico, otherworldly, poem
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Boy
I am a young boy, fated to innocence, walking through the lavender mist of Time’s softly slipped dream, every grain of sand a stitch in the marvel of kingdom’s comely veil.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged boy, dream, hymn, innocence, John Biscello, poem, sea, wonder, words
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