Category Archives: dream baby dream
all beginnings are applications
of some description
when you don’t know how long what you have been watching
has been the home shopping channel
morning tv fades out
midday lingers as the day is drawn from the deck
an all day agenda fades in
paperwork to make a home
jumping through hoops
we’re up to our hips
i think of everything i have to meet the criteria
remembering shreds of paper, lies & life
i contemplate every humane distraction
do i really need this machine?
am I insulted by the depiction of this demographic, namely me?
i’m too tired to tell &
i’ve spent too long on this couch
you don’t give up,
try not to lose the fight
to realise they’re not playing the same game
you’re ready to call checkmate.
when they play,
don’t call us, we’ll call you.
i like the way certain trees
can shape the sound the wind makes
as i walk alongside the train tracks
i could swear to you
that i can hear the breath of the ocean.
to my ears
i feel like i’m on a cliff
with the clouds ahead preparing
to rage over serene waters
marking the beginning of the storm.
it’s about to rain & i’m waiting
i’m wondering if this ground will soon
be too wet to walk on
or will my shoes commence to slip?
when is a good time to do anything?
i don’t like talking much,
the idea of escape is amazing.
encapsulated by the absence of light
a man tormented by the guilt of his past
feels he is owed beyond his own sentencing.
is he entitled to a second chance,
or just has nothing left to lose?
“the love i feel is not confused
i shouldn’t feel so good
its weird feeling guilty about your life
when it’s going so good
enjoy it while it lasts
there are still things i’d change in life
like where i went each day
& that i want to truly let the ideas i have inside me
to grow toward beauty.
in this cell.”
yesterday he lay dead on a hospital bed
cycling, swimming, running, relapse
these were the order of events
he wrote about them all
these are the stories to be told.
home to the holidays.
time to turn off engines & decide
to trust you have exactly what you need,
that you’ve cut enough wood for the winter.
there’s a beautiful humility in not wasting
the things that keep you alive.
arriving at the finish line on time.
in preserving those little things
that keep you warm at night,
you keep fires burning that people don’t see.
the story that we stay up late for,
a myth to make us mind our manners.
a painting of a photograph.
turning the wheel from high seas
to a surer path,
the needle spinning north.
by never cutting corners,
we never miss a beat.
he asked her once if she could be afraid,
“even an anchor needs a compass,
whenever i walk up a flight of stairs
if i do not concentrate completely,
at one point i fear falling & almost fall.
my brain miscalculates the distance & i
can’t seem to place my feet in the right position
i grab the hand rail & steady myself,
it haunts me & i can never seem to shake it.
it’s due to a recurring dream
i have about escalators.
my paranoia tricks my sleeping mind into believing
that hundreds of miles high above the world
on an escalator with no handrails,
that i’m trapped.
in the sky the steepest test
climbs up beyond the clouds
an ascent without end
on a moving staircase,
that i must remain upon to escape.
my fear is that by doing anything
other than standing still,
i’ll fall to my doom.
the height of the see-through platforms
on which my toes tremble,
just makes me freeze.
i’d drop to my knees
lowering my sense of gravity
clinging closer to the separated steps.
i used to have the dream when,
for some reason i’d been dizzy
during that day
i’d wake up sweating at night
trying to gasp fresh air from the gap
between the top of the window and the windowframe,
in an effort not to be sick.
as this trait is now a part of me,
where one could go to read it on my body.
imagine if fingerprints could give such
detailed information about
us as individuals
to those in the future or now,
about our fears.
i still have the dream
but more often than not
i wonder what sounds our fingerprints
& dna would make,
if we could record them.