Archive for August, 2013

From the dark tunnels of dreams

SLEEP_LOG27
In this dream I was laying on a bed on a Sunday morning in August. I was pretty reflective because I was born exactly 53 years ago. Outside flowers and tomatoes were growing and the grass smelled nice. Remember because this was a dream, I wasn’t upset when I got out of bed and my skin seemed liquid and my hair grew back.
I walked through a dark tunnel for several hours that was really a terrible migraine headache. Sometimes I think I have a daughter (I have a great friend)now that writes fiction in rhymes. I can only see her if she wears purple. She is sitting in front of an old school typewriter from the 1980’s tapping away like crazy.
My other children have left me and are orbiting the earth at a very low altitude. My phone beeps a strange warning tone when they are close by and I go outside and wave frantically at their slow-motion-rocket ship. I think I can see them from a round window on the side of the ship but they look like they are in a fishbowl.
When I finally emerge from the migraine tunnel, it is like I am reborn. I am so happy the pain is over that I sign on FaceBook and “like” everything I see. (even though yesterday, I hated it!)
In my fresh new layers of skin I walk into a bubbly room and find boxes and boxes stacked up filled with photos. This makes me very happy but my smile needs support braces. My hair is so long I have to make a ponytail with a rubber band.foreveryoung
Many of the photos are black and white’s of the mighty ten. I scan a couple of them in and try to “fix” them in Photoshop but I can’t. Whatever I try to do digitally is met by an error message. This I don’t understand and becomes a nightmare in the dream. It is like running in slow motion from a very fast monster.
There are no photos of our family all together at once. Zero. I notice there is a total family shot from 1912 of our great grandfathers family all together. There is nothing of our mom and dad and all ten children at the same time. I search through every box and…..nothing. We missed that opportunity somewhere along the way. We were all so very busy and dad was always working that we never found time to get all together and take a photo. Maybe later, in heaven.

The Hartmann's. Jersey City NJ.

The Hartmann’s. Jersey City NJ.

I wish we weren’t adults anymore. We should be in pajamas sitting around the gold couch on the gold shag carpet goofing off. Nobody is arguing about anything. Nobody is hanging up on anybody. Money doesn’t matter. Nobody is addicted. Nobody is sick. Nobody is dead. “Gilligans Island” is on TV. Chocolate milk Boscoe and Marshmallow Fluff sandwiches. Laughing. And everyone is there. Everyone. Aunt Gerry suddenly walks in and she is holding a Kodak Instamatic She smiles and says ; “Let me take a photo of this lovely family”
KodakInstamatic1001
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Letter to Glenn

When time just drags

When time just drags


Come back to us you crazy fool!

Come back to us you crazy fool!

Dear brother Glenn we miss you and love you. I’m wandering a field of dizzy dreams called earth. Come back you damn fool. Where ever this gripping addiction has taken you. Back from the depths of deadness. YOU and your damn nine life’s. (like a cat) This isn’t you brother!!! You’re better than this. We all are. Your consumption of gallons of pickle juice as a child. Hanging with no shirt on our white fence singing Petula Clarks “Downtown” And older you became a man. Your good cooking. Your hard working ethic. Min Goldblatt hero. Good father. You took me to my first AA meeting! You dragged me out of a no where job and got me a job with benefits. You fixed my chipped front teeth. We went on adventures together into the trees off the railroad tracks. Remember crossing the train trestle and hearing the NJ turnpike roaring below…??? A river of cars and semi-trucks downshifting. All the girls that chased you and made me so jealous. You will always have life by the balls. Escaping everything that comes your way except this powerful demon that holds your heart and soul hostage. Oh brother, where art thou?!!

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Movie Still #4 from Home Movies

Times were good!

Times were good!


Yeah, back to that home movie. 3 min and 24 seconds into it. My favorite part.

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Just over the bridge…

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

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low tide

A wooden house in eastern Europe. Elm trees. Low hills. My walking stick. “Let me sketch you.” Set yourself free. Charcoal shadows and hollow air. The earth sings goodbye to another day. Brisk and fresh. Steam and mist. There is no script. A car radio bleats the blues….my minds not right….my sideburns are lopsided…my testicles are hanging lower than usual. The moon is a boomerang and at low tide you can smell dead sponge and rotten crab meat. From the bridge we looked down and saw huge fish swimming, a broken dock and the cafe lights where we had lunch. A salad with walnuts and fresh fruit. A glass of bubbled water from another country. Down at the waters edge, the crowds filled the streets and bikers had an excuse to ride in the orange hue dusk. We will grow old. Read books on a porch. Wait for visits from children. And their children. Fade into the colors of the trees. Watch the shadows move across the wood and when the noiseless winds come, I will still hold you and kiss you.
The End.

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the legend of nothing

Because he was never found
they say he drove away from it all
started
A new life

He wishes(again) for the soft blueglow
of his computer and late night
ramblings of
poetry
i m a g i nation

wet stinking swamp seeping
into his sinking car) cut off
by a drunk maybe
side road waltz on easy street
the muddy bottom
his tomb forever

His last message
inscribed digitally (forever)
‘If you don’t see me today
… i’ll see you in my dreams .”
and they cleaned his room out
and sold the computer.

neondusktuesdayfebruary132001708pm
“No answer is also an answer.”
-Danish proverb

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