(more fragments) afraid of the dark

Everything I know about dying I learned when I gashed a slice into the bottom of my right foot.

I was so afraid of the dark—I knew there were things that I could see but was not supposed to see. I knew that if I looked too hard I would not like what I found. I was afraid to find out.

I didn’t sleep much, but I did sleep. I woke and there was an ancestor, my grandfather, great grandfather, holding my foot and smiling at me. He was here for a little while, I just looked at him. I felt like he really loved me. He faded away. I have never seen him again. I have been looking for that pure love energy to come back to me.

Dying, a dance, on a hot spring night. Its flood. The flood. The levees broke and bodies on top of cars, on roof tops, in trees, in the water, on the ground. Just there. No place for them. Where was Bush?

Lot of water in the last few years. Tidal wave. Tidal wave I dreamt of, but in my dreams, it hit New York. And we were on the top of a building, Spencer and me.

© 2006

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I'm a rock-n-roller poet who left the Big Apple for the Big Sky Desert where I've been letting it be and grooving with universal love, singing to the gods, dancing with the muses and bicycling with dreamtime messengers. I like altering my reality through imagination, movement, breath, and makin' stuff.

2 thoughts on “(more fragments) afraid of the dark

  1. They Love us, they assist us and comfort us. They know when we need their help.
    I’ve seen what I wasn’t supposed to see too. The grotesqueness of the beauty that allows us to live.

    Lots of water. More and more. The tide is rising. Oil and water don’t mix.

    Like

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