A Pilgrim's Dream

In stoic silence a windy Imhotep sculpted with his breezy breath a leafy monument of catalpa architecture. Spirals of wishful orange light dripped dimly from the street lamp's maw, spotlighting the catalpa dancers who used my mask as a stage for their feral shadow dance. As Imhotep inhaled, the dancers paused. But my fingers stirred the stillness, tracing the subtle wrinkles that composed my face. He exhaled as I found grayness in each wrinkle and pore. The dancers whirled. Then, under the catalpa tree, I woke from my dream. It was dawn, or maybe dusk; I couldn't tell. Both Sun and Moon were in the sky.

Hide and Seek

Where did the clouds go? Are they playfully hiding? Maybe someone was plagued with thirst and, like a pelican divebombing the water to capture a fish in its beak prison, gobbled them in a single bite, just to bless their throat with wet. Or maybe they were soaked up by a starry sponge: the greys and blacks melded with the rubies, the lemons, the lunar blues, then squeezed onto some distant meadow of yellow death; drip... drip... splash!, their liquid magic pervading the plains, transforming sun-crisped vegetation into flexible fruit. Perhaps they were kidnapped, lured with chanting persuasion, someone maniacally craving their salty bliss. Oh I must have found them, 'cause my vision's starting to blur and the world tastes like mist...

Home

I was sailing on a leaf during a breezy, sun-filled afternoon when the feathered bards swooped near me, tempting me with their kaleidoscopic songs to jump. They hungered. But I sat defiantly, legs folded, watching from my leafy seat the world slowly twist, waiting for the hummingbird. Buildings and trees perked their ears and cocked their heads like dogs, gazing with intent perplexity at the gliding green heart. The sky was slipping into its ruby dinner dress when she appeared. Her glassy eyes and toothpick beak spoke of nectar-seeking curiosity. She studied me, hovering with helicopter elegance. But, unlike the metallic helicopter, her machinery was biological. Her wings treated the air as a giant drum, the pulsing vibrations whispering my name. That's how I knew to jump. And so I did, abandoning the frail, velvet vessel for that tiny crevice between her blurry wings.

I only wish to fall asleep with you, naked, under a blanket of velvet catalpa leaves.