nothing between me and sky

in the dream
there were houses and apartment buildings
on flimsy-looking hydraulics
that shouldn’t have been on hydraulics
we were in the bay (joolie and i)
and walked past a body that was receiving
some attention because
the body was no longer a living one
we look through the crew of people
tending to this body to see a face
turned to leather
i am so upset about emory
(2 or 3 or 4 years old)
throwing things at people
with disregard and unawareness
that i lose it
crying and howling
at my limit with frustration
at not being able to get through
nothing between me and sky
i wake up in the orchard
to birds that look like arrows
flinging themselves across
sunrise cloudscape panorama in handfuls
some so close i hear the
swiff swiff of their wings
cutting through air
as the talcum powder moon
lowers itself into lightening horizon
smell of espresso and
trish’s venga venga
transporting us both back to

south america
while i sip my frothed coffee milk
minus the sweet
(which really is the thing that makes it coffee milk)

like being pregnant trish says
of what it’s like to
strut around with that
apple harvest bag

the particular feeling of
apple tree branchlings
grabbing hold of
my hair
as i pluck fruits under the trees and
climb ladders and their limbs
to reach those dangling above

we apple pick hard and
lunch/snack hard and
almost-nap hard
under a golden delicious tree
using harvest bags flattened out
as blankets

cloud scraps that
look like sanskrit
into tadpole turning serpent turning
saying something about


if you can fillet a fish
you can stuff a bag into a bag
trish, flabergasted, insists
(in reference to packing up
a sleeping bag)
while trish and i dissasemble tents
in the middle of the orchard
where emory howls and
cole rolls up her sleeping pad

we wave goodbye
to the faded apple sign
tacked to a utility pole


the way trish and i laugh about me
laying down the law from the front seat
about turning down the voice volume
not long after i engage the
window-lock not long after i say
i can’t have this about the
fishing poles hovering
above my head
dreams where i’m driving and i can’t open my eyes
dreams where i’m driving but i can’t reach the
wheel or the pedals because i’m stuck in the back seat
dreams where i’m driving and... i share the variations
from the driver’s seat while heading west
with a dirty windshield
into the blaze of not-yet-setting sun

one deer
galloping across county highway
then later a pair
darting across gravel road then
a bit later a trio


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