Letter 15 – Sunburnt Hollyhocks

(The Dream 1 & 2)

I

 

This dream

is  a  burial  in  sand

a message for life – metaphor

graveyard      separation     loss

of     could  be  the  ache  for  skin  provided many  juicy

memories to fuel the human brush fire.

 

Clocks tick away a wasted life

have potential

melted while I rust      baby

pictures of an innocent boy

are useless

asleep like the shit-rolling damn stanky riverdog

yet

there

is  time  hope

color  memory   river water gushing over rocks

as Nag Champa fills airspace above a well-kept altar

if someone is listening

a daily prayer of anger becoming wisdom

myriad-mind standing by

of lust becoming power    of Kubrick  Eyes Wide Shut-type

brushes w/ agony    screams of agony

had the hot burning fire

been

jerked through an adolescent’s greasy fingers?

 

II

 

The summer day becomes a lonely quest to

Slaughter time

is the bloody shell of your life

bereft

of meaning.   The crow takes the

glittering plastic & drops it from tree-top to see its

neon shine in sunlight again & again

as he’s amused by the effect.

A rumble of summer wind reveals

sun burnt hollyhocks dying

w/ Mars tied to the less than full ripe plum moon strings

a card game   & you are bluffing.     Another

necklace

of pearl looks so sexy in the naked mirror    but

bones have a way of screaming    dreaming Dark

Brown

& you’ve heard this started as

black plasma & imagination.    The

beads of the pearl necklace grow back overnight  she

says handing you parsley for your breath.    Summer says

adios  and leaves you w/ more gray hair and less skin.

 

There in the cardroom each liberty unaware of attachment

are the card players hieratic    clean    presentable

enough for a major loss of skin.    Poker faces where

tears should be.   Somebody call me a doctor.

 

 

7:50AM - 8.15.03

(Phrases taken from Adrian Castro –

The Breeze is Wind but the Hurricane is Also Wind)