The dream of many waltzes

I had one of those odd coincidences earlier this week. At my new job, we are sometimes availed of complimentary tickets to events— for example this week it was attendance to a  two o'clock performance of Ravel's Bolero (and two other pieces, but that was the star) by the NY Philharmonic on Jan 20th. It just… Continue reading The dream of many waltzes

When time turns in upon itself, you question everything

I've been on a new trajectory. It’s great; it’s weird, It’s new. I love new. I also love Old. That’s neither here nor there. I’ve been feeling like a teenager again, lately. In the sense where I’m acutely aware how temporary so many people in one’s life tend to be. It’s not a judgement call;… Continue reading When time turns in upon itself, you question everything

After the crash we float like ghosts

After the crash, we float like ghosts, moving about the old main street unnoticed and silently marveling at the high pitched roofs and tall windows of these old houses, taking in the glow of warm light of the interiors. The long incandescent puddles projecting out through the panes onto the thick blanket of silencing snow… Continue reading After the crash we float like ghosts

Elegant instruments, arrayed in bowls

There is a room full of young women lounging in or at the edges of inviting pools of water. The room has an otherworldly atmosphere, with dim, colored lighting and biomorphic curves in the walls and ceilings. It feels, looks like a grotto; like some ethereal rendering of a subterranean brothel. On low ledges all… Continue reading Elegant instruments, arrayed in bowls

On drawing maps for cephalopods

We were making aquariums out of materials that, while they looked appropriate, were perhaps not sturdy enough. There were three or four parts comprising each coffin-sized plexiglas case, but occasionally the filtration system was sending surges of too much water upwards at times, and we were concerned about leaving them in a room, filter on,… Continue reading On drawing maps for cephalopods

A telegraph from Elysium

I was trying to connect with the horses at turns. But my Night shade was finding them, not the real me— a defensive version, that spooked and scared the horses— So they told me I must find them as myself.

the dream of a crumbling apartment

Until, both suddenly and in agonizing slow motion it seemed, the ceiling came crumbling down— a great sodden mass of sheetrock, the way a wet cardboard box falls apart when overburdened.

Interior: a hidden room

It housed much of what I had been missing, as in the poem— symbolically, aspects of myself suffering some neglect. No mistake that the sprawling, feverishly researched and planned-for projects were the first things I unearthed.

simplicity & inverses

I had vivid, authoritative dreams that told me to answer questions simply, without explanation. Stern yet well-intended: cut the rambling exposition. Some things don’t need it; some explain themselves. Still others—wait, there I go. (You see what I mean?)I woke to the wrong day’s weather, and didn’t have the sense or maybe the energy to rearrange… Continue reading simplicity & inverses

Celestial navigation, dream parallels

Here is a tiny excerpt from a dream that I'm certain is somewhere in one of my books, but when I searched for it a couple of months ago I could not for the life of me find it. Was a long and winding one. I began writing a short story based upon it but lost the… Continue reading Celestial navigation, dream parallels