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Dreamscape

About 9PM, a walk began filled with restlessness. Claustrophobia pushed every step with the urge to escape.

Off of Johnson Street, a block behind the house, there’s a dirt road with a placard saying: “No motorized vehicles allowed.” Seeing this, adventure presented itself, and the toes turned into it.

Picking up the pace, the town passed slowly out of sight, opening up to another world where trees, crickets, and frogs sounded their background uproar.

The moon was so bright its light enveloped everything with an aural glow overwhelming the feet to continue. Giant trees imagined the walls for ancient wood-folk castles–fields were charged with dancing fairies who rejoiced in the open-faced moon.

The heart swelled like one in love. Discerning a zest for life reigning at the moment was recreating a being unencumbered. Bullying thoughts fell off like a worn-out shell reborn in the cycle of youthful creation, timeless as the stars singing the moon.

The Big Dipper hung low and was twinkling down its magic dust. Every step on the Amish buggy path unveiled a new & more phenomenal beauty. The smell of Amish wood smoke, the silence, the rock formations, the hills, and trees–Every last moment was jealous of the next.

How did such a paradise exist so near to home? There is rapture here. It must be a star-gate to another parallel dimension.

Hours passed, which seemed only a minute. The light of the moon now hid behind some haunting trees.

Shadows leaped out from everywhere, with a dog’s howl in the distance. Fears jabbered within- what if? what if? –But, rejecting those fabrications, the realization arose that there was nothing to be afraid of. The dark stretch was just another kind of beauty to be enjoyed and embraced as part of the whole adventure.

Being alive seemed to take on a new sense of meaning, listening to those night sounds & to the darkness. The earth’s odors were spicy as an overpowering balm filling the nose and lungs with wholesome delight; mint, maple leaves, and muck combined.

Where the road concluded seemed impossible, for it was several miles away. Somehow, over 5 miles passed under exploring feet. The return journey was just as spectacular. A spectator in what seemed to be an elaborate dream finally arrived home a little more than an hour after setting out.

In the house, a reoccurring childhood dream came to mind. It was about finding a hidden path that was the shortcut to a distant Shangri-La.

Now that dream felt like it had become a reality. Imagine where feet were headed the following day?

 

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I Became Certain

the sea was orange upside down;
a scaled blue bulldog stood on top of it

smirking its fish-faced Cheshire teeth
and my friend, Mary, walking it, looked plastic--

so I asked her, why do you
look like a mannequin(?)
she stared blankly

but everything else looked normal, 
even the tree roots waved
in purple cotton candy clouds,

and the winding river was the usual dark green 
dodging to the left through the littered 
box-store clearance aisle

where I could float and shop for chotskies
cuckoo clocks, and puke-colored sweat-shop dishware 
while I sailed my dingy white dinghy 

so punctured, I feared could sink at any time
searching for a trinket
yes --you know the feeling - browsing
for who-knows-what -- but wanting something
nonetheless, and knew I wasn't finished
(but had to go real bad & oh, it burned)

and thought it will just be okay; I'll just go 
--in the river because
(no one would notice  --a secret) 

-but I pushed, but something corked it
 I was so frustrated - I knew I was awake,
 but couldn't feel my tool - oh my--
 
the shock --it was numb, like, it's not there
and I said to myself, it must be time
to wake up - but aren't I already awake(?) 

so I pushed harder but felt clamped off, 
therefore, called myself to WAKE UP thinking 
maybe, just maybe - I was dreaming, 
but how could that be(?) 

the scene 
was far too real .. yes, even the dog 
still grinning through the sea fog, 
oh so correctly,

and I said, COME ON --it's time now
or am I (?? ..) did I croak(?) 
am I helpless to get back(?) 
did I translate(?) then dread shouted, 
IT'S TIME FOR ME TO WAKE UP-- 

and I began to reenter like an astronaut
riding a flying brick,
and wasn't sure I could hold 
my breath long enough to get
back to the surface-- 
as the cobwebs cleared, I became certain
I wet the bed



 
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Posted by on April 28, 2021 in Poetry

 

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