under no-moon sky

in the dream i was unexpectedly
dj-ing an after party event
perhaps in germany
for a sortof mainstream crowd
of folks that ended up being cool
and then i/we were also karaoke-ing
and there were lots of white shirts
and black pants
(as if everyone just came from
catering an event)
and as the evening went on
twerking hilarity abounded
sizzle hiss pop of
cast iron after cast iron full of
tomatillos roasting on
processing kitchen stove
while laurie anderson
lupe fiasco
and that one song with the chorus about
how we carried it off so well
play on

the word exulted
scribbled in a quickly falling apart
notebook on the counter
a word which is maybe a word
to describe how i want my days and nights
to feel/look/be
(other options: illuminated
or, something about that edge/space where the
veil between worlds is thinnest)

easy, there, danger tyler jokes
after i break the computer cord
by simply removing it
from the outlet
the currenty-est, moving-est, rivery-est
we will ever see here i say of the
whose muddied waters rush along
and then under highway M
as trish, megan and i bike past
it’s a whole new landscape
i say

to trish as path-walk to the pond
regarding the obsoleteness of
the sparkle-o-meter
as applied to my life/emotional state
trish drawing apple tattoos
(with arrows going through and nina’s name
scrawled across in honor of her
last day)
on the dressed-up/costumed sandhillian crew
on the merc porch where i pass the bottle of
sweet sweet butter beer
to nina, baigz, ty and megan
something about the magic of rolling
with a costumed crew by eve
and garden/field/meal-tending with them by day
suspenders and capes and fishnets and clip-on hair
(it’s not a weave, i correct as i was corrected)
everyone asks what’s
the occasion after double taking

for nina’s camera set
for multiple frames
emory on top with arms in the air
tyler in the truck-back looking
unbelievably elegant
under no-moon-sky
in his freeboxed ironic rabbit fur coat
while joe muscles the truck along
newly graveled roads
nina and i singing a liat jazzified original:
you gotta move slow and find your flow
chase that mystery to know that you are free
do what you do to set you free
and be who you want to bee


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