Around the corner crouches spring all ready to pounce. Hear her hot breath and feel the rise and fall of her coiled flanks as she times her breathing to the phase of the moon and the turn of the tide.
The speed and rush and velocity, the either/or intangibles of thought. I’ll just have to lament and make of it what I can, gather together the corners and fold it closed, before it falls away.
Dreamt last night of amphibians marching two by two, salamanders and oxlotls and newts and efts glowing iridescent and bright green, red, purple, orange, like brilliant soft-skinned Life Savers they marched across the floor. And then I noticed the frogs, the little tiny tree frogs, the baby frogs.
A friend once bred leopard geckos and the babies were just miniatures of the adults, identically proportionate, no difference in the size of limbs or heads just shrunk down so small three of them could fit on a dime.
And in my dream I noticed all the multitude of frogs, all sizes of frogs, some silent, some singing, at first hushed because we approached and then tentatively beginning their chorus again.
We were in what once was a backyard with a gigantic swimming pool shaped like a T but with round edges, and at the crux of the T was a big rock monolith. I imagined probably something like a hundred years ago it had fake ferns and pink and yellow mood spot- lighting and a filter pumping water in a waterfall to fall back into the pool.
In my post-apocalyptic night time mind's eye vision it was all overgrown. The dark tree branches closed in on all sides, and cool condensation from a recent rain dripped into the pool's clear water.
The bottom of the pool was all yellowed and brown but the water was tepid and clear like a rainforest pond and we decided to go swimming. We communicated with looks and gestures, we did not need to speak. We swam silently with the meditative sounds of water dripping and the springtime sounds of frogs singing, I felt your skin against mine as we slipped together through the cool water.
The twilight of the world reflected dim against the water’s skin, and your eyes were the dark blue of dusk after the sun has spun all the colors from the sky. I love it best when I dream of you.
The speed and rush and velocity, the either/or intangibles of thought. I’ll just have to lament and make of it what I can, gather together the corners and fold it closed, before it falls away.
Dreamt last night of amphibians marching two by two, salamanders and oxlotls and newts and efts glowing iridescent and bright green, red, purple, orange, like brilliant soft-skinned Life Savers they marched across the floor. And then I noticed the frogs, the little tiny tree frogs, the baby frogs.
A friend once bred leopard geckos and the babies were just miniatures of the adults, identically proportionate, no difference in the size of limbs or heads just shrunk down so small three of them could fit on a dime.
And in my dream I noticed all the multitude of frogs, all sizes of frogs, some silent, some singing, at first hushed because we approached and then tentatively beginning their chorus again.We were in what once was a backyard with a gigantic swimming pool shaped like a T but with round edges, and at the crux of the T was a big rock monolith. I imagined probably something like a hundred years ago it had fake ferns and pink and yellow mood spot- lighting and a filter pumping water in a waterfall to fall back into the pool.
In my post-apocalyptic night time mind's eye vision it was all overgrown. The dark tree branches closed in on all sides, and cool condensation from a recent rain dripped into the pool's clear water.
The bottom of the pool was all yellowed and brown but the water was tepid and clear like a rainforest pond and we decided to go swimming. We communicated with looks and gestures, we did not need to speak. We swam silently with the meditative sounds of water dripping and the springtime sounds of frogs singing, I felt your skin against mine as we slipped together through the cool water.
The twilight of the world reflected dim against the water’s skin, and your eyes were the dark blue of dusk after the sun has spun all the colors from the sky. I love it best when I dream of you.
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