Dreams: I'm dying and wandering around outside and the light is so bright but I'm waiting for my vision to fail. I tell him not to put me in the coffin until my eyes close. Feelings inside the me in the dream of something totally un-understandable approaching. Something darker and larger than I can image. I wake up.
I know what my mind is doing there in that dream, trying to process certain experiences, but I wish it wouldn't do it quite so vividly, if you know what I mean. On my way to work, I noticed wires across the road and a box on the railing which said it was Traffic Data Collecting. How the brain is one big data collecting box with coiling wires/tentacles, searching out information all over the place.
Poetry News: Rejections. Writing a poem a day using Diane Lockward's The Crafty Poet. I'm getting together some questions for an interview with Diane that I'm very excited about. Waiting on submissions.
A massive shadow of hubris
crashes through a universe of thorns
having no feathers but smooth skin
and wingflaps of nearly transparent
there's lightning by firing of eyes
thunder by flapping of wings
cowboys leaving a trail of moonshine
fire at the heart of it
while the legend disappears
rumors persist of a big dead bird
nailed to a barn with a mighty span unfurled
and several men posed under it for scale
Copper Canyon Press