Dream #1027
Day Ten of Thirty Days of Writing

Fast and long as a bolt of lightning
a revelation stops me as I fall asleep.
A meditation for the penial gland;
beats and a hand of copper reaching.
Snakes biting around your ankles
and all the words you’ll never say pouring from my mouth
like vomit on the deck floor, easily wiped away.
Who was she? When the veins in your arm turned blue?
I was caught in an elevator and saw myself, scared of falling.
A book comes to me from the birthplace of a would-be lover.
I’d already seen the pictures from the zoo and the light of the full moon.
There were twelve guardians — pious stones.
Four left us when the bridge collapsed suddenly.
You are a fantasy I am still paying for.
The cost of murder is measured in hundreds of dollars but not thousands.
