Sunday, December 7, 2008

Dream Haibun Series

((note: the formatting doesn't want to work, and i don't have time to learn the html to make it so. thusly, the second half of each haibun is formatted incorrectly. i am posting just to make colleen smiley. finals are killing me...))

((pee-ess: if you don't know what a haibun is... check it out.))

If I Took the Test, I'd Fail

((for M.J.))

The fun house holds no fun, only fear. If I were, if I were, if I were Yao-Ming-ed, cartoon-eyed, Quasimodo'd, snaked, ((late)) Marlon Brando'd, frowning, frowning. Bathroom mirror. Discomfort, but me. Then fear again. Pivot profile, hipbones, ribbones, collarbones, pelvisbones gone now, snow skin stretched to transparency, and a creature curling, cooing inside. Face front, face the face of wisdom, wear, weary. As though belly might over-mature, leaving me full up with less-than-cuddly corpse. Look away, look up, look again. Skin still see-through, but face now embryonic. Baby. Pre-birth, pre-life.


i said


expecting the word

to fall


but baby held on


no process
pure progress

instant wisdom squared

one left with weight

pre-sexed pre-life

umbilical. cord. confusion.


…Will You?
((after N.R.))

Lately You’ve Been Showing Up Alot. Down each avenue or via. Mayer or Martin—I’m not sure who my dream wants me to be, but I’ll manage either. Certainty. And I’ll run into you, but I’m here for my brother, the entertainment factor, the fishes. You can see 'em disappearing, two by two. Dive down! So we run to catch up and watch. ‘That’s the one I saw up there!’ ‘No, it’s not. You’re dumb.’ Doesn’t matter. I know I run as fast as fish swim. Soaked slip, sneakers squeak from the overhead splash zone. I am only one, and that is one too few. My turn for microphone melody. So, Mr. Martin, I guess I’m chugging, channeling you. But in Rome, do as the Romans do


…will you?

c. o. n. n. e. c. t.… t. h. e. … d. o. t. s…… with me?

jump jelly

to sea horse

to sea star

these weren’t the names we learned as children.

lost fish.
where do second halves go?

((for P.K.H.))

You were there. You always are. You say things I think you think and I hurt. Help. Here: a man, cruel, holds you, angers me. Hands. Off. To a dive on 4th Street where you beg drinks of all. My. Job. My. Pleasure. Robbed. And you are gone. I walk back, see the man. Tiles askew, he laying with fresh cement. He laughs. 'Where is she?' 'Look around. You'll find her.' He pours more cement, tearing up with laughter. No. He smoothes it. No. No. He lays a tile. No. No. NO. Body chemicals are sticky on the outside. If you are the binder his bones will be the accent.




live in chicken wire

walls holes filled

with scenario:

another, fucking up,


work, disinterest,


even in dreams,

i. stand. down.

Landscaping for Jealous Love
((for peace of mind))

I want you awake when I wake. I want your sleep fueling my sleep. And I want your time zone within mine. But barely breath no chance like you daylight save two months too soon twelve hours off. My dreams bring out of reach matching schedules and he takes time off to tread miles across city field around the track of eternal argument. Emits saccharine genetically enhanced taste of "bitter" flattered and fire back right to scale. Doctor's distraction camouflaged fairy tale fall and the thought of end. He lunges fingers strong bruising fruit flesh forearm. He saves me. Now you child fitful fistfuls rip away unjustly unthinking landscaping for jealous love. The grass innocent but necessary a cloud of blades.


encircle wrist


lips to face

mind me


lips again

a to b to two pair

cry baby

sing shower shards


you will win.

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