Image: Annie Konst
Whenever I feel the urge to resist creating I remind myself that that there is value in doing it - even badly. For practical reasons. To finish anything - to actually try to finish it not just throw things down, even badly - is like taking a texture rubbing of my internal landscape. How else will I know for sure the psychic distance traveled?
When I read the poems below I feel & mark the distance. To past selves, and travelers, and change.
Two poems inspired by dreams from the summer of 2020, below.
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When Dreaming
The Universe is a carnivore, Spooning black holes where people once were. In sleep a test: Pea green and white honeysuckle print, As if I am seeing through flaxen party glasses, Spiritless by design. Walls greasy, And breathing heavily, a woman rests Her breasts on an ancient man. His knees have fused to the bed in missionary. But w a i t. — Holy flowers grow around her ankles, Wide white teeth shimmering Their desire is huge. I bend down to smell them and Come face to breast Sticky dinner rolls, Plush dahlias. She is an exposed wire, A direct line to God. He Kisses her greedily, Leaving a trail of saliva on her cheek. Forked tongue, belly down, Slides into my inner ear. Extended from nowhere, Continuing infinitely— Is it safe? Stardust Licked from the rim. Shaped like a man, A disguise he cannot shrug off. When will I stop playing this part? Anxiety Sifts me, Room temperature powdered sugar Shaking through the slot. I taste better this way. Butter yellow petals Smile coyly from her feet, Spraying me with promises They could never keep.
The Hanged Man
I ate Down to the barrel’s bottom, Teeth scraping wood. Aeyyyye aeeeye eye curled there, Fecal, Damp, I wondered: Is love not coming? Vicious fasting, Darkness in perpetuity She spoke: No more sweet treats without service. Then, Tied. Ankle up, Spinning idly, Skirts gathering round my neck. I I I promise. Chilled now, Roaches scatter. They visit me, Smoke French cigarettes, Look at me with generous pity in their Many eyes. An opal hand mirror beneath my nose, To check my animal breath, Is she alive? Can it really be That the spirits that guide me Are bugs?
Bugs and spiders!
wow !!!!!!