Poetry amnesty event

There was a hillside where we, the soldiers, hung out. It was joyful to feel myself in my legs walking down and then up a hill of earth. It was a tall mound of jagged dirt at the top. There was some talk and some camaraderie.  Not long and I had fallen asleep inside a warm sac. There was a sexual bit. I remember a phallus. Then a mouth sort of yelling from the outside to wake up. The war had come.

I dreamt I was floating over people being marched as soldiers.  We entered a compound and there was an amnesty zone where a sport was being held.  I thought of the Celtics(a team I guess?) I was filming with an old victorian accordion camera and there were broadsides of poetry and art.  Michel had a piece on the counter attached to Susurrus Din.  SD’s work was not  supposed to be there, but it was attached to Michel’s.  Someone sort of shuffled them on the counter. My friend S.K. from Philly was there in profile.  The war was still on outside.  An urge to leave came and then I saw a man with an M16 and a white T-shirt come in. He was getting the jump on the other side.  For all the war feelings and guns, I heard no shots.  I had a bad feeling leaving the arena where the poetry broadsides/Celtics game had gone on.  I didn’t have my gun. Where did we leave our guns?  Where was my baby?  I was think this as I was inside the arena too.

When I left the arena, I climbed up in the building to escape.  I saw dark-latino or middle-eastern men.  They didn’t seem associated with this “war.” I felt a slight tension but they just disappeared.  I needed to get out.  I had rope.  I don’t remember tying the rope to anything, but still I rappelled down the side into a foyer and ran off. I remember thinking I was not sure what color my team was; blue or tan.  It felt like a summer camp and not a war after all.  I ran off alone and didn’t rejoin the soldiers but came upon an outdoor birthday party that I was not invited to despite the realization that my sister and brother were there.  My brother gave me a plate of pomegranate seeds apologetically because there was no cake for me. I arrived just in time to see it placed before his good friend Gibran. They cut the cake and I slipped away. The women were dressy and one had a scarf around her neck. I had been wearing a full-length slip as I walked up alone.  I looked in the refrigerator and saw some old cupcakes. I ate nothing, save the hint of pomegranate seeds. They tasted like cranberries.

&~~

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lost blurry lust

I’m in a large van. The police are approaching. I know they are going to search my bags, and I know there are some joints in some of them. They start rummaging through my stuff; I slyly shift the contents around of one bag and feel pretty confident they won’t find anything, but there is another bag that I’m still nervous about. They start asking me about “time-holes”, which are these tears in time & space that you can jump through. Only few people know about them — I happen to be one of these people. I offer information freely because it doesn’t matter. You can only see time-holes in your peripheral vision, and even than they are extremely hard to spot. They literally look like a blurry slice in space about the size of a large man. Only one person can jump in at a time, and you have no control as to where you end up. If you want to travel with someone, you have to toss a rope in immediately after the person goes in — they have to grab the rope and hold it tightly as you enter holding the other end. It doesn’t always work. Once you go into one of the time-holes you will never get back to the world where you jumped in — there are too many possibilities and you are randomly spit out into one of them. Some people get addicted to jumping through them.

– – –

I’m making out with a woman, she is only wearing white underwear. She has round, uniform, red-blue bandages across her shoulders and down her biceps. They are about the size of small, round slices of oranges, and are placed equal lengths apart. It makes her look a bit robotic. She had some sort of cosmetic surgery on her breasts. As we get closer to sex, and she becomes more and more aroused, her left breast starts to become firm and begins to erect. It thins out into a wide, disc-like shape as it grows, her right breast remains normal. Her left nipple starts to jet out into a long thin, flimsy, nail-like shape, and some sort of dark, dense cream-like substance oozes out. I’m not repulsed or turned-on by this so much as I am intrigued. I have a firm grip on her breast and just watch this happen for a while, wondering what will happen next. ♨