fever dream

bye bye, blackbird
have you any dream

if I wanted to talk, I'd talk
if I wanted to sing, I'd sing
if I wanted to walk, I'd take a walk
if I wanted to sleep, I'd take a drug

and as I sleeped I dreamed of
honey in the jar
flowers between paper
Rebecca and the Well
a tansy tonic
intinctured saltines

sirens sing in the silence
calling me to calamity
lulling, culling
lulling, culling

slift across seven centuries of dream

someone sent standing waves of sand
to smash on the side of a placid sea
and divide the proprietal from the accipital

I can fear the sound of the underground trains
it heals like distant thunder

a futon afloat on the ocean
awash in the steaming brine
tossing about on a sunless sea
a sheet wound around me
like a story too long to tell

I hear bees drip honey straight into the jar
I have syrup for my bun, courtesy Mr Sun

you call to sleep, but sleep don't come
and when sleep come, it come like a freight train
heavy fraught with every little goddamned thing

you stand at the bottom of a vacant dry-dock
while sky-hooks maneuver great steel beams
into place above you

the sound of a klagson clanging in the hullen half of my head
the smell of something burning in the sullen side of my sinus
all of my joints joined together in rowdy rebellion against any possibility of comfort
cold wet rags burst into flames when they touch me
as if they're soaked in butane
and I am a glow plug

yessir, yessir
dream times cull