All night I dreamed about dying. Every time—I was shot once, bleeding out; another time, I had some kind of wasting illness—I woke up instead of never opening my eyes again, but whenever I fell back into the dream, there was a different death to go through. Some of the circumstances, waterspouts, unmoored islands, shell-like crusts of uninhabited buildings in the middle of cities where I've lived, might have made intriguing story material if I hadn't been distracted by the endless iterations of mortality, none of them opera-clean. Today fails auspices.
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Active Entries
- 1: With life and so much loss, time has weighted us
- 2: Out in space, coast to coast
- 3: Like a sprig of yarrow caught in the dark
- 4: The moon still rises on everybody else
- 5: To the green field by the sea
- 6: Eating cereal, remembering the sky
- 7: We'll tell you of a blossom and of buds on every tree
- 8: Am I lost inside my mind?
- 9: And the biggest old rascal come tumbling down first
- 10: You showed me how to not throw my troubles away
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