This is the Dream of Win & Regine

*yawwwnwnnn*

It is so very late, I say. Sleep? Of course not!

Wednesdays are usually my 'do nothing and love it' days, but the last couple days have been so devoid of...anything really, that I'd much prefer to go out and do something, I'm free all day people, c'mon call me! ;P

This is largely a poem update.

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Dream poem #1

Like ballerinas, two dozen birds
diving, dipping through the mist
of my front lawn. Tell me dear,
do you remember it much different?

Front porch; stepping stones to the
sadism, my mother naked and her professor
with his large Indian hands around her neck.

Indian ring neck parrots are my favorite bird.
My favorite memory is of his mouth like a shovel
scooping the shells and seeds of sunflowers into
his jaws - crushing the steel in a city

like construction. It is always a construction site,
my relationship with her; my memory of him.

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Dream Poem #2

There is nothing as brutal as masturbation;
I am primal then, my stomach tips like an
iceberg over the top of the bath water.
If I had a larger bathtub I would have
invited her to join me, but I am alone.

The television is so loud, god so loud -
turn it off, please? The water erupts
over the edges of the silky white tub
thick - suds and semen, thick with
lies, your primal eyes of enjoyment.

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Origami Poem #2

My women were little figurines on my desk.
They were paper figments - skin peach, purple,
bronze and silver reflecting the light from my
desk lamp. I had not framed them.

They had gone peaceful, I had no need to fold their
limbs back till I heard that sharp crack and bury
them in my backyard. I couldn't disagree now that
I was possessive, hooking them with tiny

silk strings and hanging them from the ceiling.

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These are all rough ideas, none of which were re-read or edited.