woke every morning and
dressed in the sun, then
dreamt in the breezeway
where the day's laundry
hung. She listened for
him in the summery hum;
sometimes she was honey,
sometimes she was stung.

It's been five years now.
Five years flew by,
five years into thin air,
five years forever gone.

I cannot remember a time,
where I felt more anger,
hatred,
disgust.

I carry these emotions still with me to this very day,
in hope that I will someday wake up,
and no longer feel them.

Sometimes I find myself waking in the night,
calling your name,
reaching out for you,
only to feel cold sheets on the other side.

I write this to you now,
not because I am lonely,
not because I am desperate,
but because I love you.

No matter how much hatred I feel,
I always will love you.

I almost had my first kiss once.
Almost.
It was on a cold December night and thick pure snowflakes were falling.
Falling to be caught on my golden hair, or in his, slightly darker.
I stepped back into the shelter of my front porch
but not into my warm house, oh no. I was a prisoner.
Locked out and befriended by the cold winter.
But it was fine, because I was with him, but not perfect because we were both alone.
He, shooting hoops and me, waiting patiently and admirably.
So admirably.
In my eyes, everything he did was wonderful and exciting.
Worry filled me n the fact that something was off and something was on his mind.
Was it me? couldn't be. Maybe.
The frozen basketball rolled smoothly, almost practiced, off his hand.
and in his stiff voice he mouthed the need to come inside.
I shouldn't have left. I should have stayed and waited only 30 seconds... 45 seconds...a minute longer.
But, like most people, I fear the airiness of awkwardness
and the moments that you stand before a person and draw a blank and have not a word to say.
I feared it and I turned my back.
It could have been perfect. It would have been perfect.
had I just opened my eyes and seen, because I didn't see.
Looking back now, I see.
My first kiss was close.
So close.
So painfully close it taunts me.
It taunts me when I'm siting alone, pondering.
When I'm alone with him and we talk about things.
When my friend bring up their magical first kisses.
When I remember the fact that I still love him, after all these years.
When his hand lightly touches mine or accidentally brushes my back and I realize, it could've been so much more.
But mostly, it taunts me on cold winter nights
when the heavy white snow is lightly falling, catching in my golden hair or landing on his, slightly darker.

that boy sitting next to her
with a slender, birdbone frame power
in his Franken-lightning hair, a hungry
edge to his jaw, who stumbles over Bishop
but compresses our breath with his words
undoes me in muted, fraying ways
the cuffs of my favorite sweater
slowly unraveling under years of continuous wear

his smile is clever and **** with drama
kept in the dark alley corner of his mouth,
strong coffee and bruises without origin

I didn't want to know how
under the soft tissue of my liver and spine
there are words that might taste
like a fire escape in Brooklyn
a night on a stranger’s couch
and how compulsory punctuation might be
only an afterthought to others

And we rang along those river banks
against the light cast as shadows,
fleeting past mournful dark windows-
timid in the evening's morning.

And you whispered into my eyes
the words you wanted me to see,
and showed them to idle ears
who waited for something else appear.

We are married to the Earth in an endless dance,
Floating through the abyss of life,
Imagining adventures with the stars -
Using the universe as our stage.

Once upon a time,
There was a beautiful maiden.
Without a doubt,
She glowed with magnificent power.
Power equaling beauty, that is.

This maiden, however,
Had a flaw.
She knew she was lovely.
She needn't be told so.
Yet, as much as her power radiated,
her flaw beamed brighter.

She was an  envious soul.
Jealousy  ruined her.
If she was the most beautiful in the land, why must she be vengeful?
She felt insecure compared to all of the other lovely maidens,
even though it was written in stone that her looks out shone theirs.

But it didn't matter,
All that mattered was that she was beautiful....and no one was to ever know about her little 'Beast'...barely being contained in the maiden's tiny body...ready at anytime to be released, and wreck havoc...

Seeking the Enchanted Wood
beyond the Gate of Dreams
again another night
naked but for my Silver Key
that heavy antique carved
with undecipherable
arabesque
symbols
stolen from the Messenger
of the Faceless One
hung from a chain around my neck
the Key to the Dreaming
a comfortable weight against my chest

I descend those too-familiar
Seventy Steps of Light Slumber
ancient worn stone cold under my bare feet
climbing down through the dusky emptiness of Pre-Dreaming
one-by-one
until they suddenly end
at Nothing at all

Without hesitation
(I've been here so many many times before)
I take the leap
and step off into emptiness
and enter the hidden Cavern of Flame

In the far corner of that inky darkness I can almost see
the shadowed forms
of Nasht
and Kaman-Thah
the Gatekeepers
whose temple this is
those towering black figures
bare-chested with carved, curved beards
and elaborate head-dress
stand stone-still but all-aware
waiting to judge my worthiness
again
I perform for them
a different routine every night
to demonstrate my power
my understanding
my worthiness to traverse The Dreamlands beyond

Tonight
as most nights
I begin by conjuring myself a robe
a simple black thawb with cleric's collar
hemmed just below the knee
black linen gi pants
in the Thai style
and comfortable black tabi boots for my feet

Now dressed appropriately
I begin the ritual proper
so They may see
my mastery of The Dream

I rise myself up to float in the center of the cavern
in lotus-posture
and expand out from my center
a dodecahedral lattice-work of blue plasma
until it fills the space
and I float serenely in its center
From each pentagonal face of this construct
I then project white-hot jets of flame
offensive defense
effective ward against
the many horrors that await a Dreamer
But here in this realm of un-real
this is but simple hedge-magick
unimpressive
amateurish

They require better of me

I reach out
and project myself
to the far end of the cavern
and instantly I am there
And then again
and then again
teleporting myself around the cavern
disappearing and re-appearing at random points
to demonstrate my control of Self
and reality here

They continue to stare down at me
black and stone-faced

I draw my perception down into the center of my form
and push Out
against my flesh
against my skin
until I feel it begin to tear
down my back
and I keep pushing
Out
and Out
screaming
until it all comes free in one blood-soaked blur of agony
and I am left standing as
naked muscle sinew bone and nerve
From the scraps of my skin I fashion
a new robe to wear
to show them
my immunity to the horrors I will face beyond

Finally
they consent

From the center of the cavern erupts
the Pillar of Flame
floor to ceiling
I step into it
and my flesh-robe self-sacrifice burns away to ash in an instant
the price paid for passage
but I am left unsinged
and after a moment I step free from the flame
with a new skin
and again re-robed, as before
black thawb and gi and tabi
but now also something new
something never experienced before
(every night
something never experienced before)
something not of my own crafting
a blue turban
electric royal blue
adorned with an onyx jewel
I do not understand this gift
or who
or what
might be the giver
but I accept
with gratitude

An open door appears in the cavern wall in front of me
and I step through
and begin my descent
of the Seven Hundred Steps of Deeper Slumber
gleaming black stone staircase
descending into darkness
through an empty night
I know that at the bottom of these stairs lies
the Enchanted Wood
and further beyond the rest of The Dreamlands
Ulthar and Dylath-Leen
Oriab and Celephaïs
Leng and unknown Kadath
and as I descend further and further
and closer to the Dream
I can feel my Self coming apart
as if dissolving into mist
and I try to hold my Self together
and focus on those far-away lands
and their cities of Dreaming
and remember how much I long to see them
how every night I long to see them
and I try
and I try harder
and I take another step
and I am gone



And then I am awake

I will try again tonight
as I try every night
and I will make my way to the Cavern of Flame
and I will perform my tricks for the Gatekeepers
and I will begin my descent of the Seven Hundred Steps of Deeper Slumber
and one night
maybe tonight
I will make it all the way
to the bottom
to the Enchanted Wood
and to the Dream beyond
and I won't ever
have to return