my dreams
they are rekindled nightmares
of my most negative bits of life
they move like thick syrup along a cold plate
drawn out slowly with no resolution in sight
bringing me to the edge of madness
and then
I am awakened with a thud
as if I have fallen from the sky

perhaps a mechanism
or some caring soul slapping me into consciousness
to save me from the real dark stuff

I've experienced the other side in many ways
I've been touched
attacked
threatened
I have also heard the gentle voices of distant souls
allowing me a moment of connection  
I am not quite sure how dreams are intertwined
but I am quite sure that they are

In the first light of this day
with too little sleep
I am feeling tired and vulnerable
but I have entered the dreams, fears, and pains
of other poets from far and wide
and it seems
we are all growing and dying together
maybe just a little at a time
line by line
these spirits enter me
and assure me I am not alone
in this drift.

berry stained grins,
gentle beings.
dialogue so fluffy
we float right through.

through the walls,
past our flesh.
comfortably distant from
picking at sticky bones.
we make the rules here.

milky whites,
and god those muddy doorways.
whiskey bottles softly napping
upon the river's clay.
summer music cracks through,
glowing like starlight.
were you always this beautiful?

our halloween house,
bigger than enough for two.
even the heaviest of winters
swallowed like salt and cream.

who knew it'd be this easy?
i don't miss eating fingernails.
you are all i have,
and you are all i need.

Walk along the riverbed.
You will come upon a nymph,
Aged and smooth
As a riverstone
Sighing and singing with
The water’s flow
Ask her, “How are you, Nymph?”
And she will
Smile
Up at you and say
“I am but a tired soul
In a tired sea
Of tired souls.”
Her voice the soft bubbling of the river.

Walk among the trees.
You will come upon a dryad,
Ridged and furrowed
As the tree limb
Upon which she sat as she watched
The leaves fall with the autumn breeze
Ask her, “How long have you sat here, Dryad?”
And she will
Gaze
Down at you and say
“I grow and grow old
With the tree.
And the tree has grown tired.”
Her voice the raspy crinkle of the fallen leaves.

Walk amidst the flowers.
You will come upon a deva,
Light and sweet
As the honeysuckle she sat amongst
Watching and humming with
The many bees
Ask her, “Who are you, Deva?”
And she will
Frown
Away from you and say
“We, those of us that
Belong
To this place,
We are Afraid.
And we wish to no longer be Afraid.”
Her voice the wavering stems of delicate flowers.

The nymph chokes on her sisters' remains as
the dryad is cut down and shredded and the deva is
forced into restrained clay pots.

They cannot be freed by one
but by the response
of all.

merlot leaked from my neck
white fog clouding my vision
my chest tightened
i fought back
the urge to fight
and greeted the night
which exploded
into blinding white light

I can’t help but wonder if we have crossed paths
Over and over again, tangling each hello
Catching a hint of mischief when we first bumped into each other
And how easy it was for us to slip into
Conversations, plotting to take on the world
But first things first, we have to catch the moon
And hold the stars ransom in our back pockets
I swear we were pirates singing sea shanties
And conquering cities, but now we settle
For late night dance parties, and one shot, two shot, three
And sure, we are invincible, and I can’t help but wonder
If we have crossed paths over and over again
Our stories layering, life long friends
Or maybe arch nemeses, and each time
Tagging out a new adventure
Where we are chasing after each other
I swear we were renegades, young rebels
Questioning authority and pushing boundaries
Now, we collaborate artistically
Broadcasting in a world of social media, one shout, two shout, three
And sure, we are strong, and I can’t help but wonder
If we have crossed paths over and over again
Our history repeating, kindred spirits
Or maybe pieces of the same soul, and each time
We meet, we find a part of ourselves
We had forgotten