“all dreams are relevant in varying degrees to the life of the dreamer…they are all parts of one great web”--from man and his symbols by carl jung
the blackhole parking lot
the pool table at the bar
the despised dentist chair
the airplane that frequents underground tunnels
or the ocean with its killer whales.
you pick up the spike that sits in the lot at the gas station
to save us from the unspoken crash.
you handle the wolf spider of pure snow
climbing your thigh in awe.
you gaze wide-eyed as
the dentist tortures your teeth with pliers.
you stand by the shore as the whale vacuums your brother up like a dust bunny.
you transform the plane into a dive bar so
passengers don’t notice when you go down.
you watch the first bite in the cherry tomato:
the teeth settle into the plump yellow flesh
fangs puncture the skin & seeds become flees--
you watch it again & again, in slow motion, on repeat.
you walk down the aisles in the grocery store
under florescent lights, the canned goods explode
as you pass, a blackbean rain, no one cares.
but the ladies in line for blackberry pie
squeal when you forget to take a number in line.
and the partner that just dumped you says
he didn’t mean it when you agree to a date and
look down to see you’re wearing your pink fuzzy bathrobe.
share the closed-eye visions,
the untold stories stick to the web
of the collective subconscious.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
“all dreams are relevant in varying degrees to the life of the dreamer…they are all parts of one great web”--from man and his symbols by carl jung
the blackhole parking lot
the pool table at the bar
the despised dentist chair
the airplane that frequents underground tunnels
or the ocean with its killer whales.
you pick up the spike that sits in the lot at the gas station
to save us from the unspoken crash.
you handle the wolf spider of pure snow
climbing your thigh in awe.
you gaze wide-eyed as
the dentist tortures your teeth with pliers.
you stand by the shore as the whale vacuums your brother up like a dust bunny.
you transform the plane into a dive bar so
passengers don’t notice when you go down.
you watch the first bite in the cherry tomato:
the teeth settle into the plump yellow flesh
fangs puncture the skin & seeds become flees--
you watch it again & again, in slow motion, on repeat.
you walk down the aisles in the grocery store
under florescent lights, the canned goods explode
as you pass, a blackbean rain, no one cares.
but the ladies in line for blackberry pie
squeal when you forget to take a number in line.
and the partner that just dumped you says
he didn’t mean it when you agree to a date and
look down to see you’re wearing your pink fuzzy bathrobe.
share the closed-eye visions,
the untold stories stick to the web
of the collective subconscious.
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