Blind Lemon Buzzard and the morning wood

Woke up this morning thinking about the old man.

No, not me - the progenitor (of me - I guess I should say - not all things).

He'd been laughing, in my dream; in fact we both had, been cracking up. God knows about what, but it was big fun, as he might say.

Or is that me? Anway...

He'd been making this goofy face I don't remember ever seeing before, and yet it was pure Buzzy - eyes wide, and… sparkling really, twinkling. Brimming with life and humor.

We were just on the verge of cackling when I woke up.

And noticed I had a hard on.

Which... disturbed me… until I realized I had to pee.

So I took care of that and now I'm writing this.

Morning, old man.* This one's for you.

The writing I mean.

And if this is all a little too phallic?

Well…

Apple/tree, dude.

*Yeah, yeah - takes one to know one.  Whatever.

nami

Dali & Magritte in the Sky

Resistance

(or "upon the 3rd night of dreaming")

We were in the future, you and I, on the lamb from the law when the car we were driving turned clear, to reveal us inside.

We'd been pulled over by a woman police officer and our quickly improvised lies had allowed us only a brief respite.

Shortly after pulling away from her the car stopped and turned invisible.

We scrambled out and down a grassy hillside below but were composed with the knowledge we hadn't done anything wrong.

Things had changed in the future, become less human, and we couldn't help but resist.

Dreamt

I was playing pick up football in an enclosed back yard with green, green grass, and a 7' high masonry wall.

The grass was long and wet and I'd positioned myself towards the back of the lot to avoid getting beaten deep.

Behind me, atop the wall, I noticed two birds - an owl and a peregrine - staring at me.

I jumped, very near them, to startle them from their perch, and found myself at eye level, then slightly above them as I continued to rise.

The falcon started but not the owl, who seemed to disregard me, and as I returned to earth I became aware the play had already started.

My opponent had caught the ball undefended during my distraction.

Definitely one for the birds.

The night before last

I dreamt I was a skinny old man in a threadbare Santa suit who'd been visiting with the children from a one room school house.

It was springtime - so god knows why the suit - but as I walked back into the woods I could hear the teacher talking about me through the open door.

She was loudly extolling my new found "enthusiasm" for such matters - especially in lieu of my drunkard's not so distant past - but her words seemed more strained than sincere.

"I can hear you," I called, turning back from the tree line and seeing an owl just above me, half concealed behind a pine bough. I realized it was a fake, a decoy, and I looked back at the doorway where the teacher now appeared.

You might think I 'd be angry, but playful is more like it, and I smiled, gently letting the air out of words that might otherwise have hung between us.

I really didn't mind.

It had all been true.

LB

St. David

bramble pond grove cock

sky fish 

down by the river

Madness

Each day I move through the world as if I belonged in it, presenting my best face to those who watch.

I move stiffly across the dance floor, aping some formalized movement - arms held high, head tilted, I pirouette, bow and nod - all to the glistening eyes peering out through little holes in smooth white masks, feverishly consuming each gesture.

And who are they, these watchers?

I don't know.

Everbody. Nobody. God.

Or maybe its just me.

But as I perform my marionette little movements (mimicking what I don't even know) a feral little creature emerges from somewhere just behind me, invisible and sharp toothed, scurries up my back and then, chattering and gibbering, buries its fangs deep in my neck.

Its happening again.

I want to scream - tear at it, flail my arms and beat the vicious little mother f*cker off my back!

Instead, I keep dancing - smile and nod to those around - trying my best to maintain a smooth, bland and serene look on my face.

And I don't say anything.

That would be telling.