cannonball tree

flight animal

silver egg

Last night I was in Russia, wading through a swampy field. I was looking for something - perhaps a trug full of fruit and vegetables, or the remains of my grandparents' house or my childhood house. Sometimes I was close to solid ground and there were trees, and the foundations of old buildings, stumps of walls. Other times the ground was more like the banks of a flooded river, or the river itself. I saw an envelope floating near me - I waded to it and was surprised to see it had my full first name on it, but I realised that yes, it was because this was where my grandparents' place had been till just recently. The envelope was left for me, now being carried on the flood. It was hardly wet at all. I opened it and there was a beautiful card from my Nanna - floral pastels but so pretty. And she wrote about where she was now, that she was embarrassed to be in a home, and she scolded me to call her but it was all so loving, and I was so happy that she had sent this to me.

There was an old bath house or indoor swimming pool in the field, so I waded over there to read the card properly, and I sat in the doorway, which was also the edge of the interior pools. As people walked by to enter the pools - the men's pool to the left of me, the women's on the right - they looked over my shoulder and commented on the beautiful card. I wanted to go in the pool, to swim in this warm, clean water and be comfortable, but I realised that all the Russians were wearing very modest swimsuits, which covered them to knee and elbow. I had nothing on my legs, so I did not want to go in.


In the second dream (or first?) N and I were moving into a new bedroom in a lovely house, with French windows in two directions out to a paddock. We had a 3/4 sized bed in there, but were discussing getting a larger one, because we had so many pets and wanted to let more of them sleep with us. Rover could squeeze on the bed with us, but if Dora wanted to join us we would need the extra space. The room - almost an alcove - was designed to be just the size of a bed.

there are two kinds of time in this poem, so probably in my life. I have been thinking one is projected time and the other is violent time? or horizontal and vertical one is the time in which I walk forward through the past, that is, I think of the cup of tea I will drink when I get to work, and here I lay seeds, a path, a path lined with bamboo - when I was 19 or 20, an undergrad, coming home on the 4.16 am from Central, gurning, cold, jaw rigid and guts clenching, heart erratic and racing but head heavy, lids cracked, train window glossy metal-orange & grease smeared, smell of ozone the national park wheeling past, land spinning fast at its edge that rubs against the train - and the trees at its horizon almost still, the centre of the wheel. I would be laying the circular path from the bed where I'd be soon, warm & able to sleep, & from there back to myself on the train, cold arms and a walk home still to come.

and the other time - is molten land? vicious movement in the guts? waking rage at the light switch, knowing something bad is coming? is red vision?

is the execution of debt? Is the electricity in the stripped wires? is needing the letters, writing the letters, receiving the letters, daily, quickly, copiously, pages on pages?

I don't know. time to sleep.

horse begin

Last night's dream was that I was at a small barbecue party, outdoor barbecue pit here in Singapore and Ron was there. N too.  Ron had three large golden retrievers with him on leashes- beautiful. Somehow the interaction between us was- I didn't want to play with the dogs, or they weren't friendly- mutually dismissive? Ron rolling his eyes. I had to leave the party, leave N and Ron, to go buy weed. I went into the bathroom and down a ladder through a trapdoor in the shower stall. There was a basement, tunnels, and guys down there to buy from so I bought a large block in a plastic bag, then went back to the party, business taken care of.