siv

My dreams are increasingly confrontational and inconclusive.

Players from the past rise up like trick skeletons in a funhouse, and with the same whispery scream of battered metal joint and sinew.

Who reads? Sometimes i half expect to see him on the street. And who will interpret the words? And sometimes i half expect to kiss him when we meet.

But more likely do the hiyaawkwardhugandtitter dance.

I walk like i'm looking, i talk like i'm listening to someone else walking away


i don't know if i dream in color or not. i'm not sure it breaks down into that language as simply as those categories would have it. i do know that i dream in decades. i dream in generations. and i dream in conversations as lengthy, heartwrenching and involved as any one of those Merchant-Ivory bodice [block]busters.