dream[t] poetry: goodbye, hello

this poem was inspired by and derived from a dream that occurred during the morning of March 2, 2023

some of us are there
to say our goodbyes/
after all these years apart, i’m still jealous,
i always wanted to be your nearest, dearest, to be your favorite,
it’s still true

you weigh all of 80 pounds, less, maybe
how much do the bones of an adult human female weigh

your hair’s gone
your long, beautiful gleaming fountain of chestnut hair, your crowning glory
all tender scalp with patchy fuzz, now
all the vanity’s gone from you
and you’ve never been more beautiful

what happened
lungs, lungs, lungs
you cough and vomit, several times
as if to prove it
i thought the treatment was working, hindsight, out of sight, 2021

Continue reading “dream[t] poetry: goodbye, hello”

dream[t] poetry: “dynamic rib”

this poem is inspired and directly derived from a dream i woke up from/with

on February 15, 2023

and is an experiment of raw dreaming dialogue and internal dreaming monologue to express the dreamt experience in poetic format using minimal metaphoric phrasing and language

a familiar woman sitting on the couch
in your house asks me
how many hours do you have to yourself
i am perplexed: “all of them”
they’re all my hours

the roof begins leaking
the one you fixed last year
the one i was reading under while she asked me about my hours
i noticed when the book
suddenly became smattered with rain drops
water drops or raindrops, what’s the difference

it was a Rugrats coloring book
i don’t know what page i was on
but Angelica was waiting to be colored-in and one of the boys was saying “mommy” in a speech bubble
it must’ve been a thought bubble because the Rugrats, except for Angelica, are not verbal

Continue reading “dream[t] poetry: “dynamic rib””


A man who wore a Kelly green shirt
Surprised me in my dream
Crashed on my great grandma’s old couch
swathed in blankets, soft and deep

I don’t ask him why he’s there,
It seems we both already know
This room’s exactly where she died,
This very house, sold long ago

Still, worried that as she ‘rived “home”
He’d given her a fright,
I go to wake her, see her, touch her . . .
This beautiful, strange night.

He says “No need to wake her now,
she’s a gem, it’s all okay,
she didn’t seem to mind me here,
I inferred that I might stay?”

I shush’d us, not to rouse her then,
Sound asleep in her ol’ twin bed,
In disbelief, I hear her breathe
Has this connection stirred the Dead?

I feel wondrous, but then remembrance
forges space for Cardinal guilts
Smiling broadly, making room for me,
he pats the couch and parts his quilts.