Feeding the Baby

I had a dream last night.  I dreamt that I was walking through a field that was dead and covered with dust, ashes and debris. We came up to a little hut in the middle of the wide stretch of flat death and the man in the little hut told us that one day three jumbo passenger jets had crashed in his field spraying jet fuel and other poisons across his field and leaving burning metal and other parts every where, and nothing ever again grew in his fields, not one green thing could live in the total destruction. We said, "how terrible, what a tragedy." He says, "oh no! Not at all! We were lucky."  We said, "What?" He said, "They missed the house."

In Riverside The Shepard leads his shaggy flock barefoot through the sticky halls of a Greyhound station. Frying hard on acid, they know he is the messiah in medusa curls, who my sister married to play house, bore his daughter, golden too, but something dark caught her heel and rode into the world. Dyes her hair black picks her nose in strangers' faces. Sneaking out 2 am cat's paw quiet the sleeping house orange blossoms abandoned groves gathering in tight knots moon silvered, leaf thick trees the weakest light still casts a shadow I want to say that it isn't all-dark in Riverside: Once I tripped and fell a black dog leapt on my chest sucking the breathe from my mouth. Subject to dark thoughts cravings for absence, as a child I provoked the others up all night plotting my corruption. Like gray pigeons they pecked my eyes till I could see. This old gray house scarred wood floors wavery -glass windows, there's a room in the back, behind an elusive door I only stumbl...