blooming in December
so much for kigo
old jawbones
lying at right angles—
my camera is a phone
mountain road
the forest within a forest
of porcupine quills
ancestral masks
the eyes go back
to being shadows
I dreamed the angel of death was a bland functionary
who kept giving me forms to fill out.
In a dream, I extricate myself from your embrace
to rescue children drowning in a river. One of them has already grown fins and a tail.
I dream I’m possessed by a demon who gives me seizures.
No pain, no gain, he makes me hiss through a throat stretched thin as a telephone line.
it’s not winter
it’s white springtime
#fakenews
As the green drains from the leaves,
why doesn’t it pool underground
like a reservoir of eternal summer?
I dreamed I was at a picnic table across from Donald Trump.
But he wasn’t president, just a racist old relative with appalling fashion sense, and everyone else was pretending he didn’t exist.
college town
even the old motel
is younger than me
In a dream, I ask advice on raising children
and am told to bury them in the yard so they’ll ripen.
