with talons in scalp & neck
with gravel voice inside head
black blade scraping skull
within red cedar rising tall...
someone rode their wild horse
& that someone was not me
Tag: betwixt and between
wild horse
briar tangled between
Photo by Justin Wilkens on Unsplash all that is owned is empty or
flaking rust from dull razors
drawing ley from
rope raw wrist to
hangman's etching,
all briar tangled betweenone breath &
ache on more mantic &
less onto dreaming
hand pat knee thigh
tears eye entwine
a dollar thin love
cut from small bones
touch a tear to tongue
& linger nectar sweet...
something stolen in
that silence between
one breath & the nextshadow to light
Photo by Jimmy Liu on Unsplash something dies
something arises
both will end
in blood and in tears
wetting chapped lips
sharp ends dragged
ragged across
it all
come close to hold
both to small and in mouse
let us gaze upon limeslit
scrim and heavy
past aged oak and envy
here is the tale of night
in where
something dies
something arises
something comes of
shadow to lightdreamtest
Photo by shahin khalaji on Unsplash I have intensely vivid dreams. From what I gather from having talked to people over the years, they tend to be more vivid than many people’s dream and I am often given more agency within the dream than most people claim to have (meaning, I can make choices that change the story or nature of the dream), and I can read one to five words at a time (book titles, street names), and retain it upon waking. Reading signs and books in dream tends to be especially hard for most people (but not all people), if they even think to do it (knowing what something “says” and “reading it” are two different things in dream).
I had a series of especially vivid dreams last night and I have a little experiment I think might be interesting to try out. One of you was in one of my dreams last night. The dream space took place in an old theater and we were sitting in red, velvet-covered seats in the dark. I eventually pointed to the stage while leaning over to you and whispered, “Watch. See. This is important.”
(more…)windshouting
broketooth me at
fore of the storm
windshouting with
flint scrapeskinned
fingers instead of words
shrieking hoar at
devils in suits
eyetaken & ragblind
stained of empty to hollow
unsure if any can hear
these ribbonrent screamsossuary
dry rot these bones mine
stolen blind from the pile
etched & inked in
india & cinnabar to bleeding
to carve away all dreaming
to flint shave all song
a withered heart on
an ashen altar
waiting for a glint
of flamemantra
...michael don't dream
michael don't dream
michael don't dream
michael don't dream
michael don't dream....Twilight aching
Photo by Cornelia Munteanu on Unsplash She covers me in twilight aching, as filtered by summer leaves. Shadowed within shadows gloaming slips down, descends, pours over me.
Blind to consequence, she moves through the weald seamless, with feet drifting on wraith. A kiss on my grey lips passing, breath crisp to the taste and pale fingers linger mists on cheek before she wisps away.
I am wicker-bound by convention though the distance moves well beyond time.
Flint for my eyes, sharp, though always blind I must be. They scrimshawed my bones to mask the words from me. Lips set to suture, to trap my voice to me.
Waiting on the fires, mists’ kiss watching, twilight aching over me.
recollection
do you recall wrists
bound in sailor's knot or
was that only wraith?
memories from mists or
merely smoke & mirrors?
tell me true, did years burn?
beautiful darkling,
do you recall the gloaming
of our changeling time?
