Green&BloatedUnderwater
DopeBeastie
Posts: 2,513
i had a dream last night in which everyone was dead and underwater
we were moving and talking, like normal... but we were dead and green and bloated.
living underwater, but in rooms and such, much like on land
we all came up and back to life and we were scared because it was different
and so everyone took a breath and sunk back down into being dead
i couldn't do it.... i couldn't go back to being dead. i tried, but was like, "fuck this!"
so i just took a deep breath and swam down there.
but everyone knew i wasn't like them... and there was some pity for me on their part...
and some shame on mine, but not too much.
my girl swam up to me saying, "Mom! (Oh! I see you're not dead like us!) Anyway...
LOOK! Our family's footprints on the carpet!
and I looked... and much like those old dance-step diagrams, lay on the carpet in bright
glowing green... footprints. from my family.
and then I get this Sonnet of the Day from my friend... and it's like:
Body Fished from the Seine
Gregory Corso
He floats down the Seine
The last victim of the FLN
He?s Arab, he?s soft, he?s green
?He?s a long time in the water been?
They?re dragging him up and now Rope around his waist against the prow
Like a wet sponge he bounces and squirts
Somehow you feel though dead it hurts
I turned to Allen & Peter--what amazed them
Was not so much the sad victim
But how a big glass-top tourist boat
Stopped and had the tourists take note
They fresh from Eiffel and Notre-Dame
--A break of camera calm
good sonnet to go with the good dream...
we were moving and talking, like normal... but we were dead and green and bloated.
living underwater, but in rooms and such, much like on land
we all came up and back to life and we were scared because it was different
and so everyone took a breath and sunk back down into being dead
i couldn't do it.... i couldn't go back to being dead. i tried, but was like, "fuck this!"
so i just took a deep breath and swam down there.
but everyone knew i wasn't like them... and there was some pity for me on their part...
and some shame on mine, but not too much.
my girl swam up to me saying, "Mom! (Oh! I see you're not dead like us!) Anyway...
LOOK! Our family's footprints on the carpet!
and I looked... and much like those old dance-step diagrams, lay on the carpet in bright
glowing green... footprints. from my family.
and then I get this Sonnet of the Day from my friend... and it's like:
Body Fished from the Seine
Gregory Corso
He floats down the Seine
The last victim of the FLN
He?s Arab, he?s soft, he?s green
?He?s a long time in the water been?
They?re dragging him up and now Rope around his waist against the prow
Like a wet sponge he bounces and squirts
Somehow you feel though dead it hurts
I turned to Allen & Peter--what amazed them
Was not so much the sad victim
But how a big glass-top tourist boat
Stopped and had the tourists take note
They fresh from Eiffel and Notre-Dame
--A break of camera calm
good sonnet to go with the good dream...
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www.myspace.com/lastgeneration56
so i go hiking yesterday. i was going to do a solo-overnight up at crater lake in southern colorado (not the big one... this little one, here). so i head out about 8:30 in the morning and start driving. i'm a dolt, so I think crater lake is on this side of wolf creek pass, but it's not... it's on that side. and wolf creek is a healthy 2 1/2 hour drive. so... i 'm driving. passing all this totally hike-able mountainage, and i'm starting to get pissed because i'm in my car, and not out on the trail where i should be. i decided to just park it in pagosa springs and hike up the Williams Creek trail. it's a difficult hike, gaining probably 2000' in elevation over three and a half miles in. at three miles, i have to cross this raging spring-thaw stream, hugging a tree-fall with a 30 pound pack on my back. on the otherside, i lose the trail and start getting stupid and hungry. i'm making bad choices, but moving slow so I don't f* it up too bad. i decided to turn around there and head back to the car. cross the stream again and start moving back down the mountain. they way down is way easier than the way up, and there's not another soul out there, so I start singing "Twisted" really really loud....
my analyst told me that i was right out of my head, the way he described it, he said i'd be better dead, than alive, i didn't listen to his jive, i knew all along, that he was all wrong, and i knew that he thought i was crazy but i'm not, oh no....
after having enough of that (it's a difficult jazz number with some wicked key changes), i get really quiet and start yawning. on one yawn, i let out a semi-loud sigh and scared the shit out of these two elk in velvet. i didn't know they were there, and they didn't know i was that close (probably thought the noisey, twisted chick was off somewhere else being noisey and twisted)... so they bolted and I called after them "Sorry!"
I saw a 70' waterfall that took my breath away and made me cry. It was a beautiful hike. Seven miles in six hours... not bad for a city chick
www.myspace.com/lastgeneration56
it's true that being tired makes you outrageously stupid, and i'd only gotten 4 hours of sleep the night before. but, i saw one suspicious track that looked a little like a mountain lion track. for sure, it wasn't a coyote or a bear.
and last night, i had my usual dark-urban-shopping-mall dream ~ but in this one, i had to fight a black mountain lion... or maybe it was a panther, i dunno...
i got my hands on its upper and lower jaws and held its mouth open... and then immediately woke up to avoid being shredded by its still, readily available claws.
i'm lazy too... but only with music right now. i think my partner making that face at me at our last show put me off. No. i know it did. i want someone to create music WITH, not just alongside-of. i'm tired of doing it all by myself, too... no one to help absorb the silent criticism. no one to share both pride and pain, ya know? i hope you and daniel do it, justin. what an experience that's going to be???
and yes yes... Track 10. I know. Can't you just come out and show me how it goes??? ;D
*sigh* Sounds like it was quite the hike!
*sigh* Sounds like it was quite the hike!
Cemetery Nights V by Stephen Dobyns
Wheel of memory, wheel of forgetting, bitter
taste in the mouth--those who have been dead longest
group together in the center of the graveyard
facing inward. The sooner they become dust the better.
They pick at their flesh and watch it crumble,
they chip at their bones and watch them dissolve.
Do they have memories? Just shadows in the mind
like a hand passing between a candle and a wall.
Those who have been dead a lesser time stand
closer to the fence, but already they have started
turning away. Maybe they still have some sadness.
And what are their thoughts? Colors mostly,
sunset, sunrise, a burning house, someone waving
from the flames. Those who have recently died
line up against the fence facing outward,
watching the mailman, deliverymen, the children
returning from school, listening to the church bells
dealing out the hours of the living day.
So arranged, the dead form a great spoked wheel--
such is the fiery wheel that rolls through heaven.
For the rats, nothing is more ridiculous
than the recently dead as they press against
the railing with their arms stuck between the bars.
Occassionally, one sees a friend, even a loved one.
Then what a shouting takes place as the dead
tries to catch the eye of the living. One actually
sees his wife waiting for a bus and reaches out
so close that he nearly touches her yellow hair.
During life they were great lovers. Maybe
he should throw a finger at her, something
to attract her attention. Like a scarecrow
in a stiff wind, the dead husband waves his arms.
Is she aware of anything? Perhaps a slight breeze
on an otherwise still day, perhaps a smell of earth.
And what does she remember? Sometimes, when
she sits in his favorite chair or drinks a wine
that he liked, she will recall his face but
much faded, like a favorite dress washed too often.
And her husband, what does he think? As a piece
of crumpled paper burns within a fire,
so the thought of her burns within his brain.
And where is she going? These days she has taken
a new lover and she's going to his apartment. Even
as she waits, she sees herself sitting on his bed
as he unfastens the buttons of her blouse.
He will cup her breasts in his hands. A sudden
breeze will invade the room, making the dust
motes dance and sparkle as if each bright
spot were a single sharp eyed intelligence,
as if the vast legion of the dead had come
with their unbearable jumble of envy and regret
to watch the man as he drops his head
presses his mouth to the erect nipple.