by douglas e johnson
Dream-day, just another dutiful daydream deep-sea-diving into oceans relative, some flower-blossoming akin to last-passing, fleeting dreams, yet…so…differing. Changed. Changed an eye was transformed – not the same just as me before. Opening soars…unwounded dreams change us if we let them break, we heal-se, naught with our lies in just us-we are not the same as what-who-when where we re:before. How? We…dreambits our why lives from some wee are know more, a body spirit may be – WILL – to be a gain. Known friends, for I dreamt mine preterit over and over but not the same underneath. Seemlessly stitched into a time-framed patchwork equaled sum-times we knot as under-standalone all ways at once familiar. Like family. Dreamsiblings reassembling emblematic poses, puzzling pieces of…
My dreams? I sense they’re dreamed by “else” – mothers, fathers, sisters…
others. One more another for they reknew my dreams, perhaps new
they meant, what could tell me these? Now interpret they are meant.
Or did they, no couldn’t have been from – where, some
on another theatrical play to step in missing a marked time?
Now oblivious to the hour as they must be scene, elsewhere been from one outside, not to be placed or planted there standing by, next to one other…
Their dreams? There, they are these – those dreams. They are dreams, aren’t
they? Was I lonely an actor in scripts unwritten by human hands…
Flow like water, threw me, bury me flooding, tearing up, waters rise over my head, hands, eyes see waters cold-choking, suffocate-drowning but yet I breathe, ah, to saturate my fingertips – then water ages, laps, licks, turns around, seep-swirls, urges, sentient old waters freshly drip-drop-drop-SPLOOSH-pour out, asperse my spirit, waters flow-hovering…
Waterspeak to me, hintelling matters, reach in spite of a scent outreach?
Suddenly warming like blood. I am offered, parted, altered. For the corners, oh, this blood filled dream riverswallows reign pours in my wounds, washing me cleansed.
To, a gain I ask, “Are these dreams mine?” Or hours imply an effort-effect of what I had eaten? Too much bread before bed? Could this be I – ate much too much?
Begin to dream, fill a hole, breakstop, make me – who? How my bones puzzle. Splinter-dreamshatter, in constructs deemed reconstructed, healed, a thing to learn from these dreams, isn’t there? Head over heels in blood…
Do they have me, give a reason for them or my time from time
on time to time through they make in essence under, stand me like distant
languages, foreign tongues afire. Strangled – what’s a word anyway?
Words weigh and wait upon our lips,
sitting there perched as birds to escape cages
we may have made alive or dead, words live within us.
Words from letters paired make words together letters written form a message love letters to my heart, spirit me, messes made of my soul identity, date, rejuvenated, redefining mere dreams more – sew they seamed.
Was it all a dream? Are these letters deafening to refine?
Inject meaning into my dreams,
hard to hear so far away ingested need alike anecdotes,
a cute pun couture, congregating, cleaving jigsaw traversing life,
a maze dreamland full-films a word. Let alone an other.
To call me a “dreamer” dreaming dreams – some may but are two-share. I can’t be the only boy dreaming…meaning something moored yet drifting, inter-prattle, waive upon waves on sea ocean water-seize fathoms deep, insight only shadows of reality darkly mirrored spectacles…
Reflect-gather, collectogether, correct-create, curateaming beautiful arts,
in sowing seeds often plants growing engardened even there – yearning
for more light-ready, learn, prepare memories.
Etched in minds eternal, dreams brand-burn
leaving markscarshadow shades of blurred visions
want on desire firengaging ragged flames rise in a puff billowing smoke
pillow-loud clouds guiding, we walk amongst and into them
fleeting-fled heavy-footed, so real yet – eyes
know not aimless dreams wandering in my head…
So here I am, a bandied one, others bothered and left me wondering, well, in a subway…