TO LAY THIS BODY DOWN.
dream of two nights ago.
the pointy tooth on the right side of my mouth had turned black and was hanging by a thread from my gums. it hurt so bad but i was afraid to pull it all the way out. and my two front teeth were growing straight out, overlapping each other in a painful way.
and i was looking through all these boxes of my old things, clear plastic storage bins, and i kept finding black ink like the kind i use to draw. every time i found one, it would spill all over me, leaving huge black spots on my clothes that i kept trying to wash them out, but they were permanent. over and over this happened, bewildering and frustrating me, but i kept going, slowly, strangely. six bottles of black ink, circle stains on my gray shirt.
dream of life.
and i am born to die, and born to feel my heart breaking and twisting and clouding over with fog, and illuminated with holy light. i say to myself: there is a gray storm cloud in the sky, with golden light spreading out in all directions from behind. and i am the cloud and i am the light and the spilling out, and the sky that holds it all. all is in me, everything i've ever felt. there's snow all over the mountains that loom so huge from this little house where i live. the storms made them black. dark wet foggy mountains, dark desert shapes of plants, flooding sandy plains. my heart is so full of not-knowing that at night i can't breathe and my teeth ache and all is lost,
but not forever, not forever.
the pointy tooth on the right side of my mouth had turned black and was hanging by a thread from my gums. it hurt so bad but i was afraid to pull it all the way out. and my two front teeth were growing straight out, overlapping each other in a painful way.
and i was looking through all these boxes of my old things, clear plastic storage bins, and i kept finding black ink like the kind i use to draw. every time i found one, it would spill all over me, leaving huge black spots on my clothes that i kept trying to wash them out, but they were permanent. over and over this happened, bewildering and frustrating me, but i kept going, slowly, strangely. six bottles of black ink, circle stains on my gray shirt.
dream of life.
and i am born to die, and born to feel my heart breaking and twisting and clouding over with fog, and illuminated with holy light. i say to myself: there is a gray storm cloud in the sky, with golden light spreading out in all directions from behind. and i am the cloud and i am the light and the spilling out, and the sky that holds it all. all is in me, everything i've ever felt. there's snow all over the mountains that loom so huge from this little house where i live. the storms made them black. dark wet foggy mountains, dark desert shapes of plants, flooding sandy plains. my heart is so full of not-knowing that at night i can't breathe and my teeth ache and all is lost,
but not forever, not forever.