unravel

the greatest thing 

you did 

was let go 

(the timing will

never feel right)

tried to hold on

to fingertips

(appropriately my

palms drip)

emotions pour 

from my pores

everything feeling

reactive

hypersensitive 

too curious 

goosebumps swept up 

in stories and strong words

slowly the spiral of learning

the beauty of letting it all

fall away into sequences 

chapters, looking back at

the scenes but not being able

to edit 

I’ll never forget banging

those poles into ground 

dust still in the 

crevices of my flip-flops 

but this isn’t right now 

breathe 

I follow through 

I will fall again 

my love is 

a deep well

for drinking and I

can dip into it over

and over 

consistent and flowing dark

it takes a certain type of 

animal outside of me 

to want this wet

patience 

hair-raising

tingling, fingertips 

(it comes again)

I will find the woods

many times been 

etching this pattern 

of habits in my psyche 

for years 

and will continue 

following the maze 

of pleasure

(did you feel the pulse)

thank you for 

opening doors into me 

that can’t be closed

thank you for leaving me

in silence 

only to hear the echoes

(of dreams that can become real)

reverberating off 

the ponderosas 

fireline

the girl with mauve lips 

takes my hand and brings me

to the hole in the wall 

we go up 

I step back and watch 

her line of fire 

every time I go up

these stairs they

take me to another place 

night outside like a vigil 

and all these people 

fragmented, pieces of me

pull the single, red thread 

of my spirit that calls 

to wander in the pool

strange souls 

felt so clear, sinking into them

my darkness laid out bare 

wading until dawn 

scattered voices

the soft hum of instruments 

the fear of what I’d invited in

melting from anima 

there are no answers 

in the fireline

only silhouettes 

Dreamscape 

They touched pinkie

to thumb, an alchemical

devilish hand gesture

peering through masked eyes

dark figures, religious, occult

running for the elevator

can’t get out of this one

fast enough

finger-slamming the button

“C’mon, c’mon!”

two floors up, eyes wide shut

Tail lights in the forest

white van, he’s handsome

park alongside a trail

hop out to take a piss

we were roaming

we were vagabonds with

candid grins

we took photos

naked in the moonlight

Blue ocean brimming

old man, glass eye, wrinkled grin

he took us out in his boat

magic whirlwind of white

water splashing

hundreds of feet high

swirling, we were flying

subconscious vessel story

into the deep Jung depths

of finding one another

peered into your soul for

just a moment, or was it hours

we held hands

even though we were sinking

we were dreaming

just falling

Paper Doll

I’m looking for my paper doll. The one that I’d put super hero capes on. I’ve had it forever. Tucked away in a little box somewhere. Where the fuck is she? I used to draw these Wonder Woman outfits, sometimes she’d be an Amazonian goddess.

It really was the coolest thing.

I can’t find her anywhere. My little paper doll. The one that used to be so strong for me. These little outfits that I’ve drawn. They’re not big enough for me.

I drove this puttering, white convertible in my dream. She wasn’t a doll. But she was paper. Flip flapping when I looked into the mirror. I had this crinkly face, but not like wrinkles, I wasn’t old. I was her. I was paper.

I’d park the car and open the trunk. All the outfits that I’d dream up as a kid, they were real and I could put them on.

It was in the middle of the desert. There was this spinning contraption, this hobby-horse of sorts. It had these streamlining, spinning whirls of colour. It was this levitating sort of alive box. I was headed straight for it in the middle of nowhere. Like it contained all the answers.

But that image kept distracting me. My face as paper. I guess the more I focused on it, the more this world would shatter. The corners of reality coming undone. I stopped trying to get there. I couldn’t control it anymore.

I pulled over and starting tearing at this paper all around me. The skies, the distant contraption, whatever the hell that thing was. It all came undone. Then I started tearing at me. Pulling and ripping apart the very fabric of my being.

It was just this whiteness. This blank. Nothing.
The peace of it.

I found the doll. She always looks so different than how you remembered her.

I’ll rip her up into a million little pieces and let the quails eat me.
What happens when I don’t have the totem anymore.

When I am her?