tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16144412527825961912024-03-13T15:22:03.725-07:00Past the EyelidsAll that I can remember of last night's dreams.Imani Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18018014926135986198noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1614441252782596191.post-66683309136813713922011-03-25T17:20:00.000-07:002011-03-25T17:20:58.570-07:00Borrow my StrangerI belonged there in my own silhouette<br />
watching from a distance with borrowed eyes<br />
a puppeteer and marionette married under one disguise<br />
<br />
but tonight<br />
<br />
thunderdrum heart and lungs make my own pulse dance<br />
with such simplicity that I question my unconsciousness<br />
tonight you are the stranger-guest<br />
<br />
but hardly strange, I guess, you filling an emptied memory<br />
standing on a shadow that was infinitely there<br />
tiptoeing in and out of my cerebral cocoon without<br />
disturbing the other dreams afloat<br />
<br />
you employ the mystery I was satisfied with picking up<br />
like a black silk bundle, a tin lunchbox, a moon<br />
as my eyelashes kissedImani Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18018014926135986198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1614441252782596191.post-52804644237909642162011-02-26T21:57:00.000-08:002011-02-27T10:59:38.640-08:00Boy and SunOh clay streets, push my feet to run away<br />
In my small chest I sense the end of day<br />
And dash to the horizon where she lay<br />
Painting the patient sky with saffron ray <br />
And I, the puppeteer of twilight's play<br />
Caress the star, convincing her to stay<br />
leave and stay<br />
leave and stay<br />
And leave. I heave the mystery up high<br />
To crash down into bruising purple sky<br />
Four hundred times, four hundred suns will die<br />
True consequence evades my hungry eye<br />
I tire of the game and say goodbye<br />
Dash home in black, but lost again am I<br />
when am I<br />
when am I<br />
This hourglass has finer grains of sand<br />
For here a year has been my hourland<br />
In night, I see no shadow where I stand<br />
No memory of mama's open hand<br />
<br />
Forgotten like the flame to which I ran<br />
The boy who raised the sun is now a manImani Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18018014926135986198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1614441252782596191.post-7069405867179520192011-01-14T08:46:00.000-08:002011-01-14T08:46:11.920-08:00Premature ConsciousnessYesterday morning I awoke before waking, opening my eyes to swim in the dark. By the time I arrived at work, my eyes were completely fatigued from treading water.<br />
<br />
I think I was diving for dreams. I haven't found many lately.Imani Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18018014926135986198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1614441252782596191.post-74558600720311112432011-01-14T08:28:00.000-08:002011-01-15T19:46:57.404-08:00An Epic Dream from 11.09.10<b>I.</b><br />
destination is undecided<br />
our backs face the city<br />
from our pockets we collect six dollars<br />
and our thumbs to hail a taxi<br />
red tail lights gleam against gray ground<br />
we are gone<br />
<br />
in each others laughter and<br />
the scent of the same shampoo<br />
lost and losing track of time<br />
until a nickel or dime<br />
or well penny wish will not save us<br />
<br />
savings beyond spent<br />
one hundred twenty owed<br />
to a stranger<br />
we ask for amnesty<br />
he pardons kindly <br />
never pauses or slows the<br />
syncopated love song<br />
hummed by four tires to the highway<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>II.</b><br />
night falls like black sand<br />
the man behind the wheel stops for fuel<br />
at a station that is open but abandoned<br />
out of the car he comes into the backseat<br />
and lamb is wolf <br />
<br />
chaos<br />
<br />
stop help sharp hit<br />
hands lips teeth demand<br />
<br />
<br />
stop sharp hope<br />
see knife <br />
hands flash hit<br />
help there is crimson<br />
<br />
destination undecided<br />
our backs face the city<br />
blood neither mine nor yours <br />
no taxi can be hailed<br />
to pacify the crescendo of sirens<br />
I turn the ignition<br />
red tail lights gleam<br />
we are gone<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>III.</b><br />
at the top of a mountain range<br />
salted with snow and peppered<br />
with tourists and suicide notes<br />
I park and realize the corpse is you<br />
lift you in my arms and walk over the edge<br />
you were gone and so am I<br />
<br />
but something goes wrong<br />
with this something going wrong already<br />
you are feather light and I colossal<br />
collide with cutout mountain triangles<br />
wrinkling the earth until i fall without you<br />
through a sea that used to be sky<br />
I dive up to foreign air <br />
gasp and fall to breathe the water<br />
and gone is now here<br />
and gray lights gleam <br />
and day is second is eternityImani Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18018014926135986198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1614441252782596191.post-9405211989683549782010-10-04T08:54:00.000-07:002010-10-04T08:54:50.751-07:00Lucid AcidWe shared a long kiss, and for the first time, it was sour. <br />
Not the figurative our-love-is-dead sour, but the literal you-ate-dead-grapefruit sour. You had the higher ground and I was struggling against gravity to evade acidic saliva. <br />
<br />
Despite the taste, I still loved kissing you and waited for the moment to end before informing you. In another part of the same dream we were laughing and running through winding tunnels of color until we found a place where no one could see and we could be ourselves. You smiled at me.<br />
<br />
Out of nowhere, Matt Lang appeared at the tunnel's opening. We had been followed. This wasn't the first time Matt had walked unannounced/uninvited into tonight's subconscious belly, and I remember shaking my head at him and thinking, <i>Next time I see you in the waking world, I'm gonna get you back for ruining my otherwise romantic dream.</i>Imani Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18018014926135986198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1614441252782596191.post-38703230438087783262010-09-29T12:41:00.001-07:002010-09-29T12:41:18.900-07:00LiteralShe finally asked me.Imani Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18018014926135986198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1614441252782596191.post-82770643001117484032010-09-27T20:41:00.000-07:002010-09-27T20:41:26.256-07:00War and Culture<div style="text-align: center;">Last night I was in a theater, classic, red waterfalls of velvet.</div><div style="text-align: center;">During the performance I felt a sting on my leg and heard</div><div style="text-align: center;">the people around me in pain, ducking from rapidfire.</div><div style="text-align: center;">On my way to the floor I was shot in the side. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I crawled as far away from the gunshots as I could before</div><div style="text-align: center;">blacking out. When I awoke</div><div style="text-align: center;">all of the bodies had been taken outside to military trucks</div><div style="text-align: center;">and I was alone. I stood </div><div style="text-align: center;">and I was alive.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I climbed onto the rooftop of the theater </div><div style="text-align: center;">into a sea of buildings</div><div style="text-align: center;">stepping from one rooftop to another</div><div style="text-align: center;">to escape.</div>Imani Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18018014926135986198noreply@blogger.com2