Page 71

Dd. SPUNGIN

I Drop I drop the Rock of Gibraltar on my toe, pick up pieces, rub stones together, remembering another heat Prepare a pile of stones to mark the place of failure Dreams swim with the fish, occasional pebbles Looking for the mother lode, how much owed to the original, the river, not calm enough to mirror inside thoughts I‘ll keep to myself for another day The rock smashes my toe, my heart beneath your foot Your foot on the neck of my love cuts off breathing I crawl to the river‘s edge craving water, find the river bed divorced from its liquid reward Oh yes, this is that dry place of my dreams The fortuneteller‘s crystal ball failing again Crossing her grassy palm with old silver, I hear night owls, their warning barely heeded Plunging headlong into predictions, rummaging inside the forbidden, breaking the promises to remain ignorant Dreams end and rivers return, empty of desire Red crayon marks off another day as the moon evolves I sense a wolf lurking in owl shadows, conversing 71

SPIRACLE JOURNAL Volume I Issue No. 1  

Re. In. Vent.

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