mammoth in size and sound

in the dream
i was defending the river (mississippi –
at the site that, in waking life, the encampment of water protectors
was most likely being evicted
as i slept)
against the mighty machines
advancing upon its waters
bright green (the machines) and mammoth in size and sound and
workers scurrying
how i shouted at the shore
rage-fueled and attempting
to articulate in short loud phrases
our water
our river
our water

in the other dream
i am sitting in on a small poetry workshop
(university class?) 
in a homey setting
and the teacher/professor/leader
has laid out copies
of a newly published book of poems
written by one of her students
in circular/mandala shape
out of which she makes an honoring/ritual/some kind of rite of passage
that we all are invited into and
i can’t stop crying because
this professor teacher person
just got it so right

in another dream
fellow farm-mate taking me on a tour
along our property edges
which zig zags
to show me the moose-breaks
place at each corner
where our land meets our neighbors’
where i realize
this moose break (to keep moose from
tromping over across the property line)
is just a formality because
each one is a measely terra cotta pool
that would only keep the moose out if they decided they needed to hop in for a soak
instead of carry on their way
the feeling of the land is deserty

in another dream
a woman comes over (in her 60s)
to see if she might be able to use an oven
at 4:00
and while our main oven works (and will be occuppied for bread/dinner)
the chances that the other three
(one with a missing back)
may or may not and i am pleasently surprised
that i can say yes to her when i discover
the one in the lower level does indeed heat up when turned on
though instead of numbers on the dial, there are colors

and then there is the lightning
in waking life
so bright i think something
has blown up outisde

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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