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Dreamed 1978/12/23 by Wayan
Winter orchard. Shiver. Walk.
Pluck curled leaves off rotting duff.
Coffee ground, blacksoft enough
to bring no barefoot pain.
Gravid rainclouds gloom. I
Cave-crawl. Rock shaft, cold clay,
A claustrophobic climb, but I've
throughed before. Endure.
Ascend to tower crown. Stark wood
whaleribs. Sprawl a tarp to shield
from black advancing rain. A green
ocean seethes, far west.
The tarpaulin too small, yet I
Still strain to guard the nest.
NOTES, YEARS LATER
- The wet orchard, rotting leaves, dark soil, clammy caves, battening down before a storm...
- the waking world? No. I spent a sunny California day at home. No black muck, caves, storms.
- my inner world? No. After a nightmare spring and hard summer, this fall's been peaceful; a relief. But note the date. New season!
- The solstice: Basking in late-fall sun, I'd missed that dark winter had begun. Didn't fool the dream.
- Storm coming, shelter as best you can: the dream was right. Next morn, my family gathered for the holidays, and fought, and fought, and fought.
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