dehydration dreams, like dali's clocks, arc inside my
mind:
under another sky lurk three muted suns
in a chessboard valley of onyx
and bone; near the rim inverted mountains twirl back
and forth, on spindles. rain falls from a russet squall--
the squares erupt in ripples. hollow fronds
catch the golden drops
and
birth a thousand crystal glasses
that hover in the air, then the rains begin to stop;
the glasses cry crystal tears, infant mouths
that seek sustenance. one by one they whimper
and sway.
a
sin, one of the seven, sinks
under the valley rim. it casts a pall over the dream:
the glasses drain toward insatiable maws which guzzle
with half a care; shards and shrieks gather beneath, cast
useless shadows to the ground
while
the fronds' lament rises.
the shadows dance a funeral dirge, the suns start
to moan. mountains pray for this chorus to cease when the squares
begin to roam. the onyx sport elastic straws and chase
white or shadow with whim.
this
chaos dissolves in rational fits:
patterns change. a bared chessboard gains new shades
in ruby and blue.
the
mountains flip--'whump'--and spindles withdraw
with a 'snict'
which
awakens me to a growling stomach
and
the thirst
for
more