Pondering why sometimes I have dreams that focus on jobs that I have had in the past. I guess that I am one of those people who never breaks off clean from a job. There is always some weird unspoken or sometimes unfortunately spoken conflict. Last night I dreamed of two previous jobs and there is always some animosity between me and my superiors that gets shoveled out on me in the dream. I wonder why I don't just take control of it, I do on occasion take control of a dream and hand out a slumbering judgment that is never fair or equitable. But, isn't that my right? It is my dream it is my life. I choose who I work for and when, why is it that I always get tangled up with some business that thinks that I am some type of indentured servant. I am in the dream and I come to terms with unresolved conflict. I don't know why certain people decide that there is a hierarchy that you mustn't alter in any way. Screw that. I won't bow down I will take in this life what ever knowledge I can glean and I will not be servant to anyone. So having said that, I will also say that I have fulfilled my obligations to those in my past, especially past employers and that is the bible truth!
Next time I dream I take this with me, solace in justification. I validate my own sentiments and my own obligatory terms.

The Texas Eagle drove us. The train tracks stretched for days in either direction with scarcly a town between. The sky in the lone star state was still hanging clear but just with a taste of winter haziness about the edges. Well everyone had pretty much fallen asleep except a couple of folks here and there, an old black lady with a kerchief tied up like aunt Jemima was just about as sweet as that apple pie she was eating she smiled lovingly at me each time I walked by and she commented on my baby girl about how precious and beautiful she was. I didn't argue with her, I thanked her though and now the baby was asleep too. I stepped out to the platform to have a look at San Antonio skies. An old boy Kenneth was down rocking on his heels on his way to the Big "D" to have Christmas with his momma. Another younger man less assured was on his way to Blooomington to accompany his wife to a physical screening for deployment;his name was Daniel and he was ashamed to tell us that he worked in a hotel as a housekeeper. Kenneth defended him and told him various ways he could work up the chain of command and consequently make slightly more than the six bucks an hour he was getting presently. There was also the younger man who had the Cali gangster Dickie's and giant t-shirt thing going on he came down from the bay area headed also to Dallas to spend Christmas with his mother, he actually lectured me for a while about how you only get one momma-turns out I was going to Chicago to do the same thing and I concurred with his heartfelt sentiments. He was actually a sweet kid and offered me his chronic snoop dog style I had to politely turn it down, but the thought was there for sure. I don't remember his name for some reason but there was this love that developed on the train, we all had some similar purpose some sort of bond. I bet you don't get that in first class flights. Later I found myself rocked right to sleep in that car, the train puts a strong drowsy of its own right down on you like a quilt of nights woven with threads of stardust and dreams. I lost my hostility and my sick anticipation for things of life that were outside of my control anyways. I will remember this journey that united me with others who journeyed to different destinations that all pass through the same point on the Texas Eagle.

I thought I could outsmart myself again, and dodge fate. That just is not possible to do. The stars have decided and now I live out the epithet of my days. I had a dream last night that I somehow ended up in the psycho ward in a hospital of some kind it was for some unknown reason that I went to this place firstly, but by no fault of my own I was admitted and found myself in a drugged incapacitated state. I lethargically argued to no avail that I was obviously mistaken for someone else and that I needed to be released without delay. I was ignored and lay in a bed made for a crazy man and slipped in and out of consciousness due to the administration of various drugs. Finally I slept out of the drug stupor and was able to convince a female nurse that there had been a mistake. I simply told her that I was married and had four kids and that my wife and I attended University. She answered in disbelief that she would arrange for my release, and that what I told her was enough to make anyone crazy…

Winter has always provided such a sense of alertness for me by making keen my senses and pricking my physical frame with cold needles of ambiance. Congruently though, there is also a sense of lurid night that holds dreams of winter sleep in the bosom of the earth. Like a kiln the dreams of winters slumberous tomb cook and cure in the heart of the soft visions. I walk through dreams in nights such as these. Today I walk in the transit between these two worlds of day and dreams light and the break of winter night's frigid somberness. I will walk in the wake of the crisp parcel of frozen dew at the apex of a lunar crescendo. This day is my night. The will-o'-the wisp knows me.

It almost wasn't even a dream really it was more like a waking dream. I feel my legs pulled up knees in palms on my side in fetal curl and somehow I am drawn out of myself and I see my body but only briefly then I am entirely contained in a shell I feel the soft almost leathery shell and I realize that I am actually a seedling of some type. I have a predominant feeling that it is a kidney bean that is struggling to sprout. Then I feel the chemical reaction within myself inside my shell, as the turbulent transformation takes place what is internal is moved out through a touch of an opening in the lining. Then as a moth leaves its cocoon, my spirit which has been slumbering pushes through the orifice. This will be a sequence that takes any undefined amount of time perhaps hours even. However, once the sequence has been navigated I emerge now awake. I feel like I am peeling layers off that are soft and damp sweated like solder and hardening in the air as I belaboring breathe.

Levitate
they call out "Son of a bitch!"
dark night thick like pitch
rooftops likened to the tips of my dragging toes
bend down the lampposts and try my nature at floating above the bastards that stole my skateboard where are
they
now
lumberjacks eating buffalo chips on the lunch bell
dropping hints of manhood
facade
crumbling bread crust in the hand by the duck pond
water still
Nutria's eyes demonic
hold my heart
on the pointed tops of evergreen crests
over in the valley there
are thoughts seeking out bronze in the linings of clouds
that graze the Cascades
The valley echoes every bit of lust and endeavor for understanding.
The deep void of the night can be risen above
And I guarantee it.
I guarantee.
I ---rant--.

Vox Deo

Parlay
Donde estas
Guten Abend
Blood on the hammer
Blood on the hammer
Knot in the scarf
Knot in the scarf
Bludgeon the blackguard
Bludgeon the blackguard
Hold the team down
Hold the team down
Necessitas
Oligarchy
Oligarchy
Dramatist
Dramatist
Underhanded
Pitch
Writhe
Scythe at the brow
Scythe at the brow
Infants turn
Mother spurn
Yoke lead broken
Yoke lead broken
Heaven help us our
Sheets to the wind

"Leonardo"
That despicable void that takes up the space between aspiration and action has the vacuous nature of sucking up thoughts and ideas never to be seen again. Where dreams meet the hard road, there is a cloud of dust. Dust kicked up by a galloping horse and rider that speeds ahead to touch a horizon of hopeful skies. Days bygone are certainly gone not to be touched not to be seen in dreams the images and ambient energy surrounding events or even days that seemed uneventful come back together and we can see that void is filled to capacity with the knowledge of existence and eternal creation of which you cry out as part. Who rode out ahead? Was it perhaps you on a better wind, or was it aspiration that took flight without regret riding forth regarding not your apathy and short breath

Lucifer's craft can be tried in our dreams. And yet in our subconscious there may be fervent recurrence of thoughts that would entertain him and make him blush in joy. But, there is no answer for him when he petitions and there comes back not an amen from the devils choir. The mind and heart of a man are dichotomous and may indeed be at odds with each other. Our minds are as weak as we allow, by infiltration of all kinds our defenses can be worn and will be wrought upon by the horde. But what a shield may be the true intent of heart, once humbled, once forlorn and forgotten but then redeemed- humility is a badge that can bear no stranger and he will admit to no boast.

Saving energy is what I wish I was doing. I just don't have any. I thought for a minute that I was going to get a second wind. I didn't. I am going through the motions for almost everything. I wonder when it was the last time I was able to let go, I mean really let go. Tonight, I fell asleep kid climbing around on me Curious George bumping out of the T.V.. Well, for whatever time I got there it was freaking spectacular. But, I was rudely awakened by a member of my family who I will not name. I was in one of those raging fits that people throw when they get stirred at the wrong moment. People with families perhaps know what this is like. It is an unbridled fury that has probably caused manslaughter in the past. Spit and cuss and nothing matters for about ten minutes until the sobriety of the situation sinks in. Those moments of complete unnatached ecstasy are very few as the years pile on me, at one time I tried to live with a Southern mentality that allowed me the luxury of enjoying every second if I chose to at my leisure and to the dismay of many. I eventually got caught up in the speed of life as dictated by whoever was pushing my buttons at the time and subsequently I was forced to seek out moments of solace. Now I don't go looking anymore, but as bloody wonderful as each of those elusive drops from heaven are indeed I don't have the energy to seek them out. I sometimes have even noticed that on occasion one will present itself like a white stag before me, and I will just smile inside and watch it. It is like it looks back at me and recognizes the futility of even trying to get a chase and I for a miniscule instant enjoy it as it is before me knowing the beauty it possesses and like a true realist I can have it by not having it. The damned romantic notion of chasing after such a thing is futility and there is nothing wrong with having a chase but maturity is looking back on the gold of past hunts and being able to remember the glory of it as it was. Because as it was is truly as it yet is.

Every so often I have one of many serial dream sequences. There is the dream in which I start out in a town somewhere vaguely familiar but not. The town contains elements of many places that I have seen or been. I am travelling in the dream, I am in the town but I am somehow not settled there. I these dreams I am not intimately involved with other people but I somehow clairvoyantly visit people in their homes. The funny thing is that I don’t know the people, if I appear in the dream I am making cameo appearances as someone else. Somehow the dreams always seem to end with me driving or walking across a bridge or through a forest on a high mountain road or just up a great hill where there is seemingly no end to the climb.