Disguised

I could tell you a story

full of tomorrows and redemption

but who would we be

kidding

acceptance is the poison

In this lexicon of sorrow

I am too tired to speak for myself

if you saw miracles spring from darkness

I saw only memory

swathed in charcoal dusty

dream

Defiance

Dream Journal

February 3, 2005

I was trapped in a country that had been taken over by Nazis and they were looking for me.  People were trying to help me hide until I could find a way to get out of the country.  We had to run through the night, dodging soldiers, so these guys took me to their grungy student apartment.  I thought I would be safe there but the Nazis found us and we had to take off again.  While we were running a guy jumped out in front of me and took my picture—he was a photographer shooting random pictures for some reason—and I was really scared because now the Nazis could get that picture and know what I looked like.  We wound up in a strange museum that was loaded to the gills with old stuff just sort of lying around like a junk shop.  I don't know if we got away.  I just can't remember anything else.

Serenity

May 28, 1993

I am just so disappointed I am so at war I don't know

where my mountains and rivers and valleys are.

Resurrection

Hey there bald man     are you afraid

The boy on the bicycle            your crayon face

This labyrinth              the map in his heart

trap doors you made   full of matter and space

Hey there bad man      be very afraid

The boy on the bicycle            he heard your name

The girl with the eyes              on the wall behind you

not the only one          who can identify you

And in this basement where bones pile           higher and higher

The avalanche of whispers        will one day enshrine you    

Hey there dead man    you left it too late

The boy on the bicycle            he is laughing away

No one can save             what is already departed

what you tried to kill  

                                 only just started

Crash landing

it was not the water I feared but
the coming
down
the expelling of the
clouds from my
lungs

The world underneath

June 3, 1993

I turn to face him
we stand there for a while
the grass is green from the rain
he does not know my name
I turn to him
I open my mouth and nothing gags
he listens
I turn to run I run run run
down the hill my arms stretched wide
I dive between the tall grass
the grass is tall from the rain
he calls for the daydreamer but I am gone
I am back laying in my bed
hating myself for the telling
it is too late
he does not know my name but he knows
there is no turning back

Endings and Beginnings

Yes, I wonder what those big oak doors

are saying

I wonder if I could read something carved

into their polished lines

because I am down here searching for some

sense of believing

when God isn't sending me any dreams tonight