Dreamed 1989/1/30 by Wayan
Dedicated to Samuel Coleridge for his confession, "I shot the albatross,"
and to Peter Beagle, for his immortal phrase "the ones with the... legs, I guess."
Sweat from my nightmare|
Reeks and chills.
"HUNGRY!" howls my gut.
Still I lie still,
Can't break the spell.
I'll tell. Perhaps I'm meant to tell.
I loved a tourist from a star.
To walk among us local apes
Star-girl and earth-guide,
On a solitudinous shore
In a cabin under grass-dialed dunes.
I, I'm ugly, the monster one.
NOTES AT DAWN
I'd been overworking for days and felt sick drained and ugly when I dreamed this. My shapeshifting lover is my own body. The dream warns me that I only love my body conditionally; when I feel good! When I get sick, I feel disgust and shame... and abandon my body, just when I need care the most.
And if I treated a lover so, she'd leave me. For that's not love.
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