The dreams they tickle me sometimes

Crashing through waking awareness

A reminder

Much kinder

Than interpersonal speech

Stroking neck hairs

Forming goose bumps

That flock

On forearms


Someone says something I’ve heard

Colors frame the scene I’ve seen

Boundaries between past and present are blurred

I was and am, will be, and will have been.


But to what avail?

What the purpose o’ the tale?

Once the vision abates

Does some force negate my free will?

Reduce choices to nil?


I stand encased in invisible ice


In a pine tree, the raven preens snow-drenched feathers







Widened eyes emit a silent, dilated-pupil scream


Winds whip the pendulous pine cones


And I know not

I know not


What to do with my knowledge


Where to go from the knoll’s edge


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