being informed of earth's imminent demise (i don't remember, exactly, something space-related or the sun going nova?) we planned a party, or tried to. everyone came, and met on the street and we couldn't decide where to end up - my place, or yours? who was bringing the food and who was in charge of the music? where would the children play and how do you explain it to them, if at all? i opted to keep my trap shut, though they did ask me a few times why i kept hugging them and crying. if you've only got 12 hours, maximum, and the ending is unexplainable (will there be a big explosion? will a wave of invisible heat pass over and vaporize us? will the earth be knocked out of it's orbit and skitter away like an eightball, pinging against jupiter and pluto on it's way out into the Big Dark?) and you want to get fucked up but also make every moment bittersweet, and run and find everyone you know to tell them everything you should have before the apocolypse, how do you deal? it's a little overwhelming, i tell you. but i ran. i first ran to robyn and grabbed her hand and dragged her out to the street party and made her kiss me. then i gathered all the young famillies i know, and all their children, and i kissed them all, too, every one. and then i got my mom, and lisa and andrew, and asked them to bring everything they had to eat, because we were going to eat it all, and drink it all. stop fretting about your waistlines and bubble butts and flabby bellies, the earth is going to crumble, or sizzle, or explode. in any case, your body is no longer your concern. can you imagine letting that go, for real? could you even do it, for twelve hours? it is like in belly dancing class, when the teacher told us we weren't supposed to "suck it in". eighty percent of the women had to conciously focus their attention on their bellies to relax the muscles enough to let them jiggle. even me.
as evening descended, we gathered at a bandstand with a view of the western horizon, watching the sun sink below the ocean for the last time. the children were playing happily as if this were any day. i felt reluctant to let mine go far from arms reach because the moment anything catastrophic appeared to be happening, i wanted to be holding them, and have leon hold me. but it seemed that things were going to remain calm for a while longer. i got up on the stage and started singing at the top of my voice that old cliche REM song. everyone started laughing and crying at the same time - some of you joined in. no one could remember much of the words beyond the chorus. i started to sob at "and i feel fine." it was such a lie. i felt scared and lonely of what was to come after we all died. chances were good i'd never see any of you again. there may not even be a me, and i was especially sorry to realize i still had so much ego left, even after everything i thought i'd learned in my life. after the impromptu karaoke, we all sat down again and looked at the darkening sky. some people wondered aloud if perhaps there'd been a mistake and the earth was going to make it after all. it seemed so hard to believe - everyone and everything we've ever know, gone. no india, no ozone layer, no dalai lama, no communism, no lemurs or tasiers, no piroshki and beer. no amazon rainforest or burning piles of tires. everything - gone. most of us were philosophical about it. i sat next to abby and shane. somewhere, church bells started to ring and silence fell on us. abby was stroking my arm, and i was trying to look at everyone all at once, feeling that this was my last chance to drink it in. all your beauty and sadness and your lovely bodies and sweet breath and your tiny children with big wet eyes wondering. my children climbed into my lap, leon hugged me tight from behind and we kissed, hard, teeth pinching and drawing blood from our lips, sealing the deal we'd made years ago - if there is an afterlife, we will agree on which one: the summerlands. and we will wait for each other there, whoever goes first, or if we go together, spend eternity finding one another, and gathering our babies and animals, and making it everything we'd been too weak or lazy or tired to make of this life. it was then the rumbling started. great tremors beneath the stage we were all sitting on. people started to make moaning noises and the children looked around wildly, for cues as to how to proceed. no one could tell them. the earth began to shake and suddenly the sky, half-dark half-light, rushed past us, going over our heads at dizzying speeds, peeling back, as if the earth was launching and the clouds, the stars, the milky way were as the patchwork farmlands, the tiny cars, the ant-like people you see as you take off in an airplane. abby's had was still on my arm, only gripping much harder now, and as the breath was pulled from my lungs and never reclaimed, i closed my eyes, smelled my daughter's hair, and waited in the din for the end of days.
2005/09/10
a slip of paper with my name on it
a scrap of paper with my name scrawled on it:
this is a treasure lost to my youth,
like the dry detritus of joyful cigarette smoking
week-long tangles with LSD
weightless flirtation,
no heavy consequences,
wings of exhaled passion lifting me
higher.
a slip of paper with my name smeared on it:
something discovered in the bottom of a purse
gritty with crumbs and sand
a summer memory bringing fresh heartbreak to cracking
surface and tears falling
the privilege of over-acting grief
no struggling for survival
just laying in self-pity
alone.
a piece of paper with my name in your handwriting on it:
one more item on a list of things i've yet to hold
and numbered among the things
i have put my palms to are your cheeks, your cats, your hair
your bed and breath, your dishes
your taste in music, your computer screen
and old time photographs,
developed shortly after your
wedding.
this is a treasure lost to my youth,
like the dry detritus of joyful cigarette smoking
week-long tangles with LSD
weightless flirtation,
no heavy consequences,
wings of exhaled passion lifting me
higher.
a slip of paper with my name smeared on it:
something discovered in the bottom of a purse
gritty with crumbs and sand
a summer memory bringing fresh heartbreak to cracking
surface and tears falling
the privilege of over-acting grief
no struggling for survival
just laying in self-pity
alone.
a piece of paper with my name in your handwriting on it:
one more item on a list of things i've yet to hold
and numbered among the things
i have put my palms to are your cheeks, your cats, your hair
your bed and breath, your dishes
your taste in music, your computer screen
and old time photographs,
developed shortly after your
wedding.
2005/09/07
a girl my age went off her head
i'm standing in someone else's livingroom. he is in the door, across the way. the place is sparsely decorated in art deco whites and silvers and modern recessed lighting in the walls and ceiling. i make a move to go towards him, and notice my legs are wet and freezing cold up to the knees. i look down to see the room is flooded in water with a thin film of crystal clear ice over it. i am shivering and looking at him questioningly. he looks away, turns, walks away, legs moving up high and crunching and splashing through the ice and water in the hallway. i stand there in the cold room, trembling, clutching my elbows. this is not my beautiful house, i sing-song in a whisper, breath clouding my vision, i am not a beautiful wife.
________________________________________________________________________
it is the moment i am shot by a gun, a random and innocent bystander. i see every grain of dirt imbedded in the pavement. the sound of the shot is louder and sharper than i expect. i smell the person next to me, their fear. all the reds and yellows on the roadside signage are gaudy, brilliant, horrific. the moment is brief. i do not have my life flash before my eyes. i hardly feel anything but the sensation of being pushed, hard, down onto the ground, by an invisible concussive force, and a deep burn in my belly, and all the wind forced from my lungs. there are a lot of people around and at first there's no sound, only smells. no one grabs for me. i sit down hard and watch in fascination as the tires of a car go by. i have to tell you something, i'm trying to form words, but i can't make them come out. i refuse to cover the wound with my hands. i let the hole, the tissue, the burn marks, the blood greet the air. horrible air, horrible life, horrible world, look upon your works, and despair.
________________________________________________________________________
it is the moment i am shot by a gun, a random and innocent bystander. i see every grain of dirt imbedded in the pavement. the sound of the shot is louder and sharper than i expect. i smell the person next to me, their fear. all the reds and yellows on the roadside signage are gaudy, brilliant, horrific. the moment is brief. i do not have my life flash before my eyes. i hardly feel anything but the sensation of being pushed, hard, down onto the ground, by an invisible concussive force, and a deep burn in my belly, and all the wind forced from my lungs. there are a lot of people around and at first there's no sound, only smells. no one grabs for me. i sit down hard and watch in fascination as the tires of a car go by. i have to tell you something, i'm trying to form words, but i can't make them come out. i refuse to cover the wound with my hands. i let the hole, the tissue, the burn marks, the blood greet the air. horrible air, horrible life, horrible world, look upon your works, and despair.
2005/09/05
in my dream, we moved into a huge, rambling, old mansion in the middle of the city. living there was the murderous ghost of my stepfather, or at least, i thought he was a ghost. but when he came to attack me, i started to bludgeon him with the leg off of an antique sofa, and he fell, and bled, all over the moldering tile of the kitchen floor. then he vanished. that night, all of the rich elite and socialites of the city came to our mansion for a housewarming. everyone knew the history of the place except us. we were newcomers to this world and they weren't shy about letting us know that. outside it was raining violently. when i stood near a chifforobe in the third-floor library, talking to some well-heeled matrons about our plans for restoration of the house, i felt dripping and looked up just in time to see the ceiling swelling and buckling under the pressure of too much water. i stepped out the way just in time to avoid the falling plaster and enormous gush of rain water. everyone turned their eyes away from the scene, embarrassed for me. in a huff, i rushed through the house looking for leon, my skirts clenched up in my tight fists, my stepfather's blood still drying on my forehead and cheeks. leon was standing near the bar on the first floor, smoking a cigar and talking with other men in suits. i smiled at the men and asked if i could excuse leon for a moment, and when we were alone in a corner i told him about the crumbling ceiling and leaking, and he flushed and said he'd forgotten to hire an inspector to tell us the state the building was in before we bought it. we fretted for a few moments about how we could not afford to actually repair anything in the house have the roof replaced, but then the party was still raging on around us, and we had to let it go for the time being.
the house was so large, and on such a small lot, there was virtually no yard around it. the next morning, we woke up and climbed up to the top floor where, at the end of the hallway, there was a small door that opened onto a narrow staircase that led first to the attic, then beyond, to a door that opened onto the flat roof. it was here that we had our gardens and yard. the lawns were bordered at the edge of the roof by wrought iron fencing, and hedges. the sun was shining. i took my coffee there, sitting at a wrought iron table in wrought iron chairs while the children ran through the grass with a man i have never seen before but who in the dream was their uncle, throwing frisbees and balls back and forth. i got up to walk around the enormous roof and look down into the streets. below us was the flood. i wrapped my fingers around the fence, and started calling to the people hiding in doorways that i was sorry and to come here, to come inside. they either did not, or pretended to not hear me.
the house was so large, and on such a small lot, there was virtually no yard around it. the next morning, we woke up and climbed up to the top floor where, at the end of the hallway, there was a small door that opened onto a narrow staircase that led first to the attic, then beyond, to a door that opened onto the flat roof. it was here that we had our gardens and yard. the lawns were bordered at the edge of the roof by wrought iron fencing, and hedges. the sun was shining. i took my coffee there, sitting at a wrought iron table in wrought iron chairs while the children ran through the grass with a man i have never seen before but who in the dream was their uncle, throwing frisbees and balls back and forth. i got up to walk around the enormous roof and look down into the streets. below us was the flood. i wrapped my fingers around the fence, and started calling to the people hiding in doorways that i was sorry and to come here, to come inside. they either did not, or pretended to not hear me.
2005/08/26
2 dreams
wayne coyne took a shine to me. at first it started out that i was shy and uncertain and feeling weird about being with him, but he talked soft and kind and spent days warming me up with trips to vegan cafes, to record stores, and toy shops, mechanics to get my motorized bicyle looked at, and kite flying and hand holding. finally it culminated in me giving him very bad oral sex. i was awful and also mortified; i couldn't get him off. but he still loved me even afterwards. i thought that there was no way for him to love me, i was entirely unworthy and a bad lay to boot, but he wouldn't abandon me.
the second dream was filled with birds and islands and ocean. we were on a tour of cortes island's most luxurious and expensive homes. several of them could be launched out to sea. the most interesting one was enormous, like a west vancouver mansion, and when it was time to put it out to sea, it curved down around this long, sloped ramp from the top of a mountain. part of the trip down was through the mountain, like a tunnel. the owner said, "look out the windows to see where all the ducks hide at twilight," and i looked and sure enough there were billions upon billions of mallards all swimming in a panic away from the moving house. finally, the house bumped out onto the open ocean. my mom was with me. we saw there was a dinghy and asked if we could row around in it and the owner said it would be fine. as we are floating further and further away from the houseboat, i saw a bald eagle not too far above us, flying and looking predacious. i saw, "wow, mom, look! i think it is going to dive for a fish!" we watched in awe as it did exactly as i said. it plunged, talons out and menacing, into the ocean only a few yards from our dinghy, and came up soaked and fishless. not discouraged and clearly able to see the fish still swimming, it rose, higher and keening, and plunged again - this time even closer to our boat - it's yellow eyes rolling back into it's head. my mom and i were dumbfounded and could only manage "wow"s and "holy"s. the eagle missed the fish again. at this point it seemed to finally notice us and looked at us menacingly, as though it thought we were to blame for it's failed hunt. instead of flying away, it did something i am quite rationally aware of eagles not being able to do. it folded up it's wings and sat bobbing on the surface of the ocean, then began swimming towards us, eyes huge and wings wet. he even looked a bit muddy or oily. as he got closer, i realized that he was at least the size of my mom. huge. he stared and stared and mom and i began clutching at one another, terrified. his beak was sharp enough to make a mess of our dinghy. the look in his eyes was murderous. we were far, far from the houseboat. but luck was in our favour, or perhaps the eagle changed his mind. he floated past us, not even a few feet away, and continued floating. his eyes were trained on us the whole time, but he made no move to attack. mother and i rowed the dingy to shore, relieved, and then found ourselves unable to make our way back to where we'd started from. lost in a huge, endless, urban-style cement parkade on cortes island, filled with tourists and elevators that made no sense. their buttons said things like, "april 5.5" and "several stories up from the tea party."
the second dream was filled with birds and islands and ocean. we were on a tour of cortes island's most luxurious and expensive homes. several of them could be launched out to sea. the most interesting one was enormous, like a west vancouver mansion, and when it was time to put it out to sea, it curved down around this long, sloped ramp from the top of a mountain. part of the trip down was through the mountain, like a tunnel. the owner said, "look out the windows to see where all the ducks hide at twilight," and i looked and sure enough there were billions upon billions of mallards all swimming in a panic away from the moving house. finally, the house bumped out onto the open ocean. my mom was with me. we saw there was a dinghy and asked if we could row around in it and the owner said it would be fine. as we are floating further and further away from the houseboat, i saw a bald eagle not too far above us, flying and looking predacious. i saw, "wow, mom, look! i think it is going to dive for a fish!" we watched in awe as it did exactly as i said. it plunged, talons out and menacing, into the ocean only a few yards from our dinghy, and came up soaked and fishless. not discouraged and clearly able to see the fish still swimming, it rose, higher and keening, and plunged again - this time even closer to our boat - it's yellow eyes rolling back into it's head. my mom and i were dumbfounded and could only manage "wow"s and "holy"s. the eagle missed the fish again. at this point it seemed to finally notice us and looked at us menacingly, as though it thought we were to blame for it's failed hunt. instead of flying away, it did something i am quite rationally aware of eagles not being able to do. it folded up it's wings and sat bobbing on the surface of the ocean, then began swimming towards us, eyes huge and wings wet. he even looked a bit muddy or oily. as he got closer, i realized that he was at least the size of my mom. huge. he stared and stared and mom and i began clutching at one another, terrified. his beak was sharp enough to make a mess of our dinghy. the look in his eyes was murderous. we were far, far from the houseboat. but luck was in our favour, or perhaps the eagle changed his mind. he floated past us, not even a few feet away, and continued floating. his eyes were trained on us the whole time, but he made no move to attack. mother and i rowed the dingy to shore, relieved, and then found ourselves unable to make our way back to where we'd started from. lost in a huge, endless, urban-style cement parkade on cortes island, filled with tourists and elevators that made no sense. their buttons said things like, "april 5.5" and "several stories up from the tea party."
2005/08/24
revenge
in my anger i moved mountains and stacked them nolens volens onto my roof.
as the beams below creaked and shuddered, i heaved
water-logged limbs up, around, slapping and struggling
over crags and bark
over logs and mulch
and moss dry like wool and
insects vibrating
in the tombs of their ancestors.
the air withered under my breathing, turned sheet ice and lightning in my lungs.
as i passed the summit of one palisade, i felt no relief
only grim determination in anticipation of the ascent of the second peak
and the breath went flat and sharp
in a labouring diaphragm
and arms trembled, agonized
heart murmmering
in protest of my self-made demise.
i climbed and climbed in self-sacrifice; how the atmosphere grew dark
and darker from blue to purple to velvet painting
all shot with stars sharp and clear and cruel, each sing-songing
about universal entropic loss
seas, and the salt of seas, and rocks
dissolving unknown to me and
dark matter groaning
under weight of its own, en masse.
the final butte had no parting words of wisdom in my wake, it only chuckled.
i haughtily flipped my toes from its tip and launched
the mound of mountains collapsed into my old home as i flew off,
determined and predetermined
to pitch battle with light
all my lives and novas
every gas and flares to swallow
that never again would a day dawn on me singularly.
in my anger i flew toward the sun - that judas of all dark, secret things - to swap blows.
heat intractable, furnaces untold, oh nebuchadnezzar lives there
but rage burns brighter, revenge for every morning that bloomed without you
my fists out, and rushing
to plunge the sun, insane.
i'd blister and bruise him,
my mouth open - concious with flame -
to consume, and in the consuming, be consumed.
as the beams below creaked and shuddered, i heaved
water-logged limbs up, around, slapping and struggling
over crags and bark
over logs and mulch
and moss dry like wool and
insects vibrating
in the tombs of their ancestors.
the air withered under my breathing, turned sheet ice and lightning in my lungs.
as i passed the summit of one palisade, i felt no relief
only grim determination in anticipation of the ascent of the second peak
and the breath went flat and sharp
in a labouring diaphragm
and arms trembled, agonized
heart murmmering
in protest of my self-made demise.
i climbed and climbed in self-sacrifice; how the atmosphere grew dark
and darker from blue to purple to velvet painting
all shot with stars sharp and clear and cruel, each sing-songing
about universal entropic loss
seas, and the salt of seas, and rocks
dissolving unknown to me and
dark matter groaning
under weight of its own, en masse.
the final butte had no parting words of wisdom in my wake, it only chuckled.
i haughtily flipped my toes from its tip and launched
the mound of mountains collapsed into my old home as i flew off,
determined and predetermined
to pitch battle with light
all my lives and novas
every gas and flares to swallow
that never again would a day dawn on me singularly.
in my anger i flew toward the sun - that judas of all dark, secret things - to swap blows.
heat intractable, furnaces untold, oh nebuchadnezzar lives there
but rage burns brighter, revenge for every morning that bloomed without you
my fists out, and rushing
to plunge the sun, insane.
i'd blister and bruise him,
my mouth open - concious with flame -
to consume, and in the consuming, be consumed.
2005/08/21
2005/08/16
last night it was this:
standing on a beach with leon. it is sand, but there are some huge, barnacle-covered rocks blocking our view of the actual sea, in front of us. leon tells me that he has done something to himself to change himself fundamentally and that he wants me to undergo the same change, so i should trust him, because it will be for the best for all of us. i am willing but nervous. he tells me the first step in achieving said change is to run to the sea. we hold hands and walk around the boulders in our way. i am telling him that i cannot run, not really, because of my knee. he isn't listening, his eyes are eager and focused ahead. i look at what he's looking at and see the tide is out so far, the sand is actually stretching to the horizon. the sky is blazing blue, it is incredibly hot and it looks like a desert wasteland. i tell him, pleadingly, there is no way i can run that far, it is literally miles to the sea from here. he laughs and grips my hand tight and starts to run, dragging me a long beside him. i am stumbling, kicking up clouds of sand, and begging him to slow down, that i can't keep up, that my knee will burst! but he ignores me and ignores me and ignores me and soon i am chugging along beside him as best i can, being half-dragged. he keeps going faster and faster. i suddenly notice he is wearing a long black trenchcoat and boots, and i feel like his from "the matrix" or maybe his a vampire like spike, from buffy the vampire slayer. suddenly i can feel the magic in him. i feel my legs grow lighter and looser and they begin to move in time to his. and then, i ecstatically realize that as we run we are rising off the ground, and the going faster and faster, and higher and higher. and soon we are maybe six feet in the air, and no longer making running motions with our legs, just soaring, soaring so fast, the sandy earth below us is rushing past. i feel terrified and exhilerated. leon lets go of my hand and then i am out over the immense blue/grey sea, and all i can see is water, water, water, and sky, and i'm flying faster and lower than i've ever flown in a dream before. endlessly.
then, this morning:
we are living in a tiny, run-down house in vancouver proper. it is night time. everything in the house is untreated wood. plywood, lumber. nothing is finished. no carpets, no drywall. it has been like this for years and things are looking worse for wear. i complain and leon says that as long as the house remains "unfinished" we don't have to pay taxes on it. but i am getting tired of every drop of food staining the plywood, ever spill of water warping the walls. i get frustrated and take liam out on a walk to a local park where there is some kind of free entertainment. laurel is already asleep so i leave her behind. liam and i have fun at the park. there are firedancers and we watch them intently. it is somewhere downtown, maybe pigeon park? only there is grass, we are sitting on a grassy hill.
suddenly people are screaming and pointing at the sky. i look up to see it too, a huge, hurtling, satellite falling towards the downtown core. it has USA flags painted on it - stars, stripes, blue, red, white all brilliant even in the darkness. it is coming down so fast there is no time to run away. i get up and try to carry liam as far from the point of impact as i can, which isn't far, because the satellite hits the ground only a second later, only a block or two away, behind a couple of office buildings. everyone is screaming, the impact and noise is immense, i can hear glass shattering, buildings roaring as they rain down around our ears, everything is deafening. i push liam to the grass and lay my body over his and realize i'm screaming, too. it goes on for what feels like forever. liam is totally still beneath my body, frozen in terror. screams, screams, crashings, explosions. and then i feel it, against my back, the wave of heat from the explosion. inside i'm terrified, it gets so intensely hot so fast, i think that we might just vaporize, and there's no way to run from that. i wrap my body around liam even harder, and try to roll away from the heat as best i can, shielding him the entire time, but i can feel my clothes melting into my skin, i can feel my skin going tight. this is it, armeggedon, the end of the world, i am going to die and there's no way to save my child.
but i am wrong. soon the screaming tapers off. i hear people calling out to each other, and crying, but no more terror noises. liam is shaken, pallid, white, but unharmed. my whole back is hot still, and i'm sure i have serious burns. i try to get up, to carry him, but can't. we hold hands and begin the slow walk back to our little unfinished shack to check on leon and laurel. when we get there, [info]angelstrange is there with her kids. they are all sitting in the dark livingroom, watching t.v., the light flickering and wavering over their rapt faces. already the footage is there for the seeing. newscasters are raving. leon looks up as i come in, and tells me he knows how to heal me. we have to go to the westernmost seashore. i should pack to leave in the morning, and [info]angelstrange offers to mind the children while we are away. i nod, tuck my son into bed, and wonder what it is at the shore that will soothe all my burns and trauma.
standing on a beach with leon. it is sand, but there are some huge, barnacle-covered rocks blocking our view of the actual sea, in front of us. leon tells me that he has done something to himself to change himself fundamentally and that he wants me to undergo the same change, so i should trust him, because it will be for the best for all of us. i am willing but nervous. he tells me the first step in achieving said change is to run to the sea. we hold hands and walk around the boulders in our way. i am telling him that i cannot run, not really, because of my knee. he isn't listening, his eyes are eager and focused ahead. i look at what he's looking at and see the tide is out so far, the sand is actually stretching to the horizon. the sky is blazing blue, it is incredibly hot and it looks like a desert wasteland. i tell him, pleadingly, there is no way i can run that far, it is literally miles to the sea from here. he laughs and grips my hand tight and starts to run, dragging me a long beside him. i am stumbling, kicking up clouds of sand, and begging him to slow down, that i can't keep up, that my knee will burst! but he ignores me and ignores me and ignores me and soon i am chugging along beside him as best i can, being half-dragged. he keeps going faster and faster. i suddenly notice he is wearing a long black trenchcoat and boots, and i feel like his from "the matrix" or maybe his a vampire like spike, from buffy the vampire slayer. suddenly i can feel the magic in him. i feel my legs grow lighter and looser and they begin to move in time to his. and then, i ecstatically realize that as we run we are rising off the ground, and the going faster and faster, and higher and higher. and soon we are maybe six feet in the air, and no longer making running motions with our legs, just soaring, soaring so fast, the sandy earth below us is rushing past. i feel terrified and exhilerated. leon lets go of my hand and then i am out over the immense blue/grey sea, and all i can see is water, water, water, and sky, and i'm flying faster and lower than i've ever flown in a dream before. endlessly.
then, this morning:
we are living in a tiny, run-down house in vancouver proper. it is night time. everything in the house is untreated wood. plywood, lumber. nothing is finished. no carpets, no drywall. it has been like this for years and things are looking worse for wear. i complain and leon says that as long as the house remains "unfinished" we don't have to pay taxes on it. but i am getting tired of every drop of food staining the plywood, ever spill of water warping the walls. i get frustrated and take liam out on a walk to a local park where there is some kind of free entertainment. laurel is already asleep so i leave her behind. liam and i have fun at the park. there are firedancers and we watch them intently. it is somewhere downtown, maybe pigeon park? only there is grass, we are sitting on a grassy hill.
suddenly people are screaming and pointing at the sky. i look up to see it too, a huge, hurtling, satellite falling towards the downtown core. it has USA flags painted on it - stars, stripes, blue, red, white all brilliant even in the darkness. it is coming down so fast there is no time to run away. i get up and try to carry liam as far from the point of impact as i can, which isn't far, because the satellite hits the ground only a second later, only a block or two away, behind a couple of office buildings. everyone is screaming, the impact and noise is immense, i can hear glass shattering, buildings roaring as they rain down around our ears, everything is deafening. i push liam to the grass and lay my body over his and realize i'm screaming, too. it goes on for what feels like forever. liam is totally still beneath my body, frozen in terror. screams, screams, crashings, explosions. and then i feel it, against my back, the wave of heat from the explosion. inside i'm terrified, it gets so intensely hot so fast, i think that we might just vaporize, and there's no way to run from that. i wrap my body around liam even harder, and try to roll away from the heat as best i can, shielding him the entire time, but i can feel my clothes melting into my skin, i can feel my skin going tight. this is it, armeggedon, the end of the world, i am going to die and there's no way to save my child.
but i am wrong. soon the screaming tapers off. i hear people calling out to each other, and crying, but no more terror noises. liam is shaken, pallid, white, but unharmed. my whole back is hot still, and i'm sure i have serious burns. i try to get up, to carry him, but can't. we hold hands and begin the slow walk back to our little unfinished shack to check on leon and laurel. when we get there, [info]angelstrange is there with her kids. they are all sitting in the dark livingroom, watching t.v., the light flickering and wavering over their rapt faces. already the footage is there for the seeing. newscasters are raving. leon looks up as i come in, and tells me he knows how to heal me. we have to go to the westernmost seashore. i should pack to leave in the morning, and [info]angelstrange offers to mind the children while we are away. i nod, tuck my son into bed, and wonder what it is at the shore that will soothe all my burns and trauma.
2005/08/15
pearly pink pencil erasers extending under your magicks
silky red blooms in the vortex of her cheeks
dull blue fire erupts
in her sleepy-lidded eyes, and lasts weeks.
she stuffed journal entries about you under her mattress
and drew arrow-pierced hearts on the windows collecting steam
and made jokes
out of every one of her most very secret dreams.
you may be tempted to philosophize and theorize every touch, or kiss
or force each blazing feeling into its own dark little cube
but don't be surprised
when the months go by, and you find that you are still love's rube.
there is no why.
it is what it is.
silky red blooms in the vortex of her cheeks
dull blue fire erupts
in her sleepy-lidded eyes, and lasts weeks.
she stuffed journal entries about you under her mattress
and drew arrow-pierced hearts on the windows collecting steam
and made jokes
out of every one of her most very secret dreams.
you may be tempted to philosophize and theorize every touch, or kiss
or force each blazing feeling into its own dark little cube
but don't be surprised
when the months go by, and you find that you are still love's rube.
there is no why.
it is what it is.
last night i dreamed that [info]romp, [info]ambeaux and i were all getting on a plane together to go somewhere. we were in the airport and i confessed to them that a guy had approached me after i'd bought my ticket asking me to check a package for him onto the flight. when i asked him what was in it, he said, "coffee filters and pot." and i said, "pot pot?" and he nodded. because i am such a sucker and can't say no, apparently, even to dream people i don't know from adam, i said, "welll, okay," but when i told this to ambeaux and romp, they said, "uh, no, you shouldn't do that." but the box had already been checked through and we were about to go through security to get to our gate for boarding. so we panicked and cancelled our trip and ran out of the airport as fast as we could.
when we got back to my house, leon was there with the kids and i had to explain what happened, feeling very stupid and sheepish and bad for ruining our trip to wherever we were going; and also feeling nervous because the drug dogs would surely sniff out that box and my name was associated with it. leon tried to get me to relax with a cup of tea, and romp and ambeaux went for a walk somewhere. as i was dozing, leon was reading a book next to me. suddenly the door to our room was kicked open and two men came in, scary white guys in black suits, pointing guns at me. i shut my eyes and put leon's book over my face and started crying. leon was pleading with them to not hurt me, that i didn't do anything wrong, but the men just yelled at him to shut up or he'd "get it" too. i remember very clearly swallowing very hard, and then BLAM BLAM! two shots right into my skull. it hurt like a very bad migraine. leon was screaming and crying next to me and i laid there waiting to die.
only i didn't die.
in a couple of minutes, i sat up. my head was still aching but there was surprisingly little blood. i was blind in one eye, and couldn't keep my balance. leon was freaking out and heaved me up onto my feet with my arm around his shoulders and started dragging me outside to the van to drive me to the hospital. i couldn't really speak but i started to feel this weird, hot, heavy sensation in the back of my throat, where the nasal passages intersect with it. as i sat in the passenger seat, i started to cough, and blood welled up in my mouth, and i felt a very heavy, hard, hot thing kind of drop from my nasal passages onto the back of my tongue. i opened my mouth and blood came pouring out into my hand and all down my chin. leon was just starting the van and looked over and started hollaring again at the sight of all the blood. i kind of drunkenly leaned over and patted him on the shoulder with my clean hand to try to calm him, and then coughed again and plop, and two little bent, blackened bullets fell out of my mouth into my bloody palm.
"fuckin' crackin'!" i shouted, laughing my ass off.
when we got back to my house, leon was there with the kids and i had to explain what happened, feeling very stupid and sheepish and bad for ruining our trip to wherever we were going; and also feeling nervous because the drug dogs would surely sniff out that box and my name was associated with it. leon tried to get me to relax with a cup of tea, and romp and ambeaux went for a walk somewhere. as i was dozing, leon was reading a book next to me. suddenly the door to our room was kicked open and two men came in, scary white guys in black suits, pointing guns at me. i shut my eyes and put leon's book over my face and started crying. leon was pleading with them to not hurt me, that i didn't do anything wrong, but the men just yelled at him to shut up or he'd "get it" too. i remember very clearly swallowing very hard, and then BLAM BLAM! two shots right into my skull. it hurt like a very bad migraine. leon was screaming and crying next to me and i laid there waiting to die.
only i didn't die.
in a couple of minutes, i sat up. my head was still aching but there was surprisingly little blood. i was blind in one eye, and couldn't keep my balance. leon was freaking out and heaved me up onto my feet with my arm around his shoulders and started dragging me outside to the van to drive me to the hospital. i couldn't really speak but i started to feel this weird, hot, heavy sensation in the back of my throat, where the nasal passages intersect with it. as i sat in the passenger seat, i started to cough, and blood welled up in my mouth, and i felt a very heavy, hard, hot thing kind of drop from my nasal passages onto the back of my tongue. i opened my mouth and blood came pouring out into my hand and all down my chin. leon was just starting the van and looked over and started hollaring again at the sight of all the blood. i kind of drunkenly leaned over and patted him on the shoulder with my clean hand to try to calm him, and then coughed again and plop, and two little bent, blackened bullets fell out of my mouth into my bloody palm.
"fuckin' crackin'!" i shouted, laughing my ass off.
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