Tag Archives: dreams

Fly Now, Pray Later

For a subliminal time only it’s here Neverland’s lucid New Romanticism replete with pricks, needles and pines bespeaking Pagan Renaissance Nouveau a movement that will start in your vowels and end in your Oh’s especially suggested for those soft in … Continue reading →

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Paris

I have never been to Paris, and so I must write about my time there, how Hemingway threw the gauntlet at my feet and challenged me to an armwrestling match three times, beating me each and every time, and Hemingway … Continue reading →

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Song of Hope

They kill poets in these parts don’t they? When I got here I saw Walt Whitman’s wizened head out back impaled on a stake flies buzzing round its concomitant rot and stench I heard one of the locals say it … Continue reading →

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Twilight

As a child I searched high and low for the right kind of magic to heal my mother’s pain never truly understanding how heavy the chains were nor how the forgers names etched in every link belonged to Legion claiming … Continue reading →

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I Don’t Know

After I love you the three most powerful and talismanic words in the language might be I don’t know, instant reducer of ego, canal-cleanser for deeper listening, ventilator of humility and breathing room, not to mention a reverential nod and … Continue reading →

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Voracity

She, baring teeth lodged in the jaws of dreamlife, grazes on symmetry and swaths of fire, this diet, recommended in due measures for dreamers only, trades in the manna of satisfaction for whole-bellied hunger, a voracious reckon and spiritual art … Continue reading →

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Of Caves and Dreams

Molten, these dreams run, hot, then cold, I, in turn, shift to watch the shadows, balletic ink dancing and lengthening on prehistoric cave walls, and decide that Plato was wrong– We do not mistake shadows for reality, but rather, ourselves, … Continue reading →

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Theater of Fire

We are spinning on a magma-veined rock that hangs in space, yes, that, in and of itself, phenomena, but for another take– a perfect circle of a world, a teeming galactic bulb hosting the seismic grift and throb of human … Continue reading →

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Treaty

The warring, within, ended. No one won. White flags, adorning the masts of souls, became the rage and pacific vogue. Ghosts kissed demons, demons kissed children, children blew kisses into the air, christening echoes. I woke up, sudden to my … Continue reading →

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Shrift

The soft bop and shrift of dreams, how they rake and tumble, colored Braille for a blind vagrant, stunned.

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