Man-Made

When I was older
and lived on the anonymous
side of town,
I'd find a private 
hidden room
in a forgotten building
and simulate 
a multitude of escapes,
but as the years
grow younger,
the perimeter shrinks.
The resources dwindle.
And the chair stiffens
for the man made now
of loose belts
who begs,
"Adorn me with
one more place
to dream of cages."

And the typewriter attempted its own escape.

Desert Looming

It’s 93 degrees Fahrenheit and climbing. The trail winds around another rock obstructing the view. What looms behind it blots out the trail underfoot. In a dream state, I stumble forward as the heat steals my stamina. But I’m not paying attention to my dehydrating state. I’m lost imagining about what looms around the next turn. A crow glides right over the crest and I see the feathers on its wings twitch in the wind. Only through its eyes do I see the folds of these mountains breaking into the wide desert beyond. I pass by another mound of scat – maybe the third or fourth one – full of juniper berries on the trail and think of what shaded spot the coyote must be panting in right now. Slipping by another rock face, I find a shallow cave with the shade I had yearned for seconds ago. And I sit there to stop the dizziness and sip a ration of water. There is a juniper tree with a burial mound at its feet. These rocks before me speak of Technicolor dreams with danger behind every turn in some old Western movie or the multitude of uses this place had for primitive fantasies and alien planets on film and through this sense of simulation I wonder how this place will seep into my dreams when I pass by the final obstruction of the day and fall to sleep like the crow cradled in the arms of its juniper tree or the coyote curled up in its stone womb.

soft dunes of sleep

For all my fellow insomniacs out there who are told that all you need is exercise and a good diet but still cannot find a good night’s rest, I offer you some softer terrain to think of as we try to drift off into that simulated flight. Waiting for dreams to spill into the basin, hear the distant soft tones of sleep approaching. Fly through this place where scarcity becomes abundance of spirit. Step toward the rigid lines that fall off gently into space. Let the anxious thoughts from daily life fall away like sand blowing over the ridge of a dune. And land on that clean plate of consciousness where you finally arrive at these restorative forms that were always there inside you waiting like the cool shadows of soft dunes.

simulated flight
hard soft line
dream spill
abundance in scarcity
distant soft tones
cool shadows

Do you imagine terrain like me in order to help take the mind off of sleep while going to sleep? Well, I hope this helped someone. And now I’m signing off (3:03am) to do the same. Good night and sweet dreams.