become invisible///thawing

i dreamt i made my blood stop churning so i could disappear for you.
I dreamt i could be still and you wouldn't have to see me, so that i could follow close behind.
I dressed myself in all white, went to your old haunts - stood faceless in the bathroom mirror.

I climbed up to the top of a tree to get closer to you. a branch stuck deep through my skin above my heart. there was no blood - the ripped skin hung like frozen meat. i felt the lack of living.

a woman noticed and called me down, touched my arm tender, and warned me of walking dead.
so, i walked on the sidewalk by your home, no longer wanting to hide. someone recognized me and insisted i stay. they held me by the arms, picked at my skin and my blood ran warm again. my skin weeped red streams down my arms. blood trickled out the hole over my heart. i knew i was more alive and to keep living. they took me in and called you up.

(i can't pretend to not care, i can't pretend to not see)

(i didn't inflict the wounds, but i did delay the bleeding.)

(love made my blood run cold)

a million little dreams in 30 min

these are dreams i had during my 30 minute MWT test. i was supposed to keep my eyes open in a dark room and stare at an X on the wall -- It's a secret test...they say to stay awake, but really they want you to fall asleep. As always I like to tell myself that I don't actually have narcolepsy. but i do...really badly

*I'm in a house with this woman and her kids (dark wood plank walls). I know i'm dreaming so i try to find something cool to do. I go outside and think...maybe i'll ride around on a motorcycle. The little boy follows me out. I tell him to go back inside. this is my dream, i'm not responsible for him. the last thing i need is him running out into the road and getting squashed or turning into some sort of demon. he sits on the motorcycle in the garage. .. i just keep walking outside.

----could you open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall (says the lady over an intercom-----

*I still think maybe i won't fall asleep. then the side of the room opens up like a garage door. oh...

----could you open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall-----

* my childhood home is in a movie!

----open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall-----

* my family and i are standing on the steps of my childhood home. We are coming back to get this ceramic bunny of ours that is apparently in the yard. He says they probably dont want it and we couldn't risk them throwing her away!
"Could you imagine loosing *insert name here*?"

----could you open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall-----

* elizabeth fries said her parents didn't do anything for valentines day and they hadn't for five years. i said...oh that's horrible... i thought they were super in love. She said "well you know, they've been married 20 years. i guess 20 years of marriage...ya know..." i thought, no i dont know. my parents have been married longer and they still love each other...


----could you open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall-----

*nate noogied me in the arm saying i didnt need to get treatment to make my B12 immunization safe. then he made it all come out like a pimple. and i pointed to it and said, guess i dont have to worry one way or the other now

----could you open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall-----

*yan koga from grade school or maybe someone else brought mint chocolate chip icecream cone. i couldn't eat it. SHHH i'm in a test! i said. he pretended to lick it

----could you open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall-----

*i stood in front of a class at a podium. i said i was inspired by package design. that my sister is getting married so i've been looking at it a lot lately

----could you open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall-----

*there was a crate of everyone's inspiration images. one envelope someone wrote "images everyone already knows look bad" i thought "i hope that's not mine!"

----could you open your eyes wide and look at the mark on the wall-----

*my name is frijola *HAHAHA* and i am a famous columbian artist but i am so young! I'm trying to have a normal lunch with friends and people keep coming up to me. wanting to shake my hand...not wanting to shake the hand of the other accomplished people around me. I am embarassed! then this woman is holding my hand and stroking it...saying what an inspiration i am to her...saying she makes music and my work inspires all her music. i said "i'm glad...i mean i'm flattered...i mean it's good you make music, and honored to i have an impact on you.." then everyone starts trying to hand me checks. one was for 97 dollars "For dinner later! you and me!"

These are only the ones i remember. ..but, as always, there were more.

you are some sort of prince and i sure as hell don't belong

as i approached the line you admired the girl to my right. your friend said no man, it's her, as in me. you said she looks like a vagabond; funny... i was a vagabond. 'exactly.' he said. so i went through line. i stood behind the girl you admired, she was an archer. i quickly made a bow and arrow appear. thought maybe you liked the look of it or something. i was a singleknifeinmybelt kind of gal, not into frills like swords and earrings and other decor (certainly not a pirate like this other girl -who came in cardboard ship- i knew you'd like her because i knew you ended up together. she was clumsy with her sword and almost took out my eye by accident as she walked by.) and they called name after name. may the strongest win. names and more names till all were called and mine was not. i went up to the friend, the name caller and said, you did not call me. and he said, "i called all the names that were listed, the names of all eligible dames in the land, surely you payed your taxes, so surely you'd be listed." he looked up at me, what is your name? tania york i said. "no.. no tania york." he knew i was a vagabond, but i did not complain he couldn't include me. i threw the trite and decored bow and arrow set at his feet. looks like i wont be needing this. and walked away

so i went to the rough side of town to find someone dashing my age, but all i found were elderly women pimping single digit sex slaves. and i felt sick to my stomach and i couldn't believe my eyes. i ran.


and i ran and i went behind the tent and cried in my arms. a young man named ronnie, 99 percent nice anditshowed, hosing horse shit behind the event came to console me. and he sure as hell didn't help

bloody sunday

i am fixing her sunday shoes, she slips, kicks me in the face and breaks my nose.

I am bloody and late for service. a brunette woman drags me out by the arm, says i don't belong. I say i was the first one here didn't you see? my nose got broke, i left to clean up. She says you obviously have no respect. i say please don't touch me. she pushes me faster towards the door. i say, please do not touch me. she hits me. this is assault. i tell her so. she says you are not a christian. i say this is true, but i am a woman of good will and virtue. she laughs psychotically in my face. she drags me towards an office. i say i will not fight you back, but i dont see the good in what you are doing. christ would show me mercy. she says you know nothing of christ. i threaten to call the cops. i plead with a blonde woman to control her. she seems sympathetic. but once my back is turned she begins to cut my clothes away with the scissors in her hand. the two push me back out into the lobby.

i do not fight back.
to prove my virtue.

she cuts away. the brunette digs her nails into my forehead and scratches away at my skin. blood comes down my face. i cover myself. i beg to the crowd of people in the lobby to help me, ask if they agree with what is happening. they shake their heads no. i plead with them to call the police. no one does. they all know they should.


they have me on the floor. they pull and push and scratch at my skin. call me a heathen, a satanist. mock me for titling myself virtuous. hit me for saying i respect jesus. they scrape my skin with the scissors. say 'i wonder what she looks like on the inside. witches don't bleed red.'

i am bleeding all over their carpet and it is red. i fear for my life. i weaken and make myself shout something about seeing the lord, about truly understanding him. i go limp on my belly and shout i am saved i am saved i am saved!

their hollering turns to laughter, ecstatic and shrill. they pull my head up of the ground by my hair then let it drop back down. they take the scissors and scrape down the center of my scalp. slowly at first, then dig deeper and deeper. someone cuts off a large piece of my hair. i grimace and weep. they all begin taking chunks and more chunks and cutting into my scalp.
swarming around me like some sort of bugs.
they are the witches.

sorry victim of time travel

***so many things happen before this***

i have traveled back in time. i am on a plane. i get up. Turbulence forces me to sit down next to this pepper grey-haired woman and a baby. I know this is flight 5. I know this plane crashes. I am not scared. I will make myself go to sleep at the right moment. Smoke-hazy-nebula-like glow floats through the air. Nobody panics because as it moves forward towards us, we assume it will pass. and once it passes it will gone. We think it's a chemical reaction. Not a fire in the engine. the baby yells "fuck!"

I dodge the first few large pieces of scrap metal. Little bits hit me in the forehead and cheeks, then my hands when i cover my face. i duck behind the chair in front of me and pull the pieces out. I thought this would hurt more, but in the moment each piece is like a urgently dull reality.

I am in a small chamber half the size of an airplane bathroom. A stewardess is being sucked down a tube much like they use at a bank drive through. Her face is covered with an oxygen mask. "The cowards!" i think to myself. I step in take a deep breath and hold my nose. The worst that will happen is I die. I would die in the chamber. I am spit out at the airport. This is an escape route for pilots and stewardesses during a crash. How fucked up. The lady working at the receiving end is surprised to see me. She asks if there's anyone behind me. I say no, but then i hear some sort of sound from the tube like there is...

I'm dumped in new york. It is 2009, but 9/11 has just happened. Really it's 1999 and my life is at the place it was in 2007. I know i can call David, but I don't remember his number. I figure I can go to my apartment and help me with whatever trouble i know i'm going through at this time, but i'm afraid to alter history. I am a sorry victim of time travel.

I am on a plane. it looks much like an auditorium. It is "airtran" A man takes up three seats next to me, laying down, lounging and what have you. He is sprawled out on all four seats with a large pan. I go to the bathroom to observe my dressed wounds. I am nervous about the flight. I watch my life for the past bit pass before my eyes. Kalonopin and vodka. "danielle!" the man says firmly, "Do you want Vegetables, Nuts, or Meat?" What? he points to the stewardess to my left "when the food comes..."
"oh,...vegetables."
I apologize to the man and explain i am confused. I consider telling him about my time travel problem. He asks me where i'm from. I say i'd love to answer that but i dont think i should (unfortunately you can't go back to your family if you've traveled through time....because you are there. you can't have any association to yourself). He asks why. I said i had an accident, i may or may not remember. I thumb a paper nervously in my hand.
I get a piece of paper filled out about the flight. My permanent address is listed as 1143 (or 147) Ascot something Trace pl. Newton, GA. The mailing address is a p.o. box with CA CA scribbled at the bottom.
"Well you have some reason in california" i look at him confused. "that address is in chico california." I'm still stuck with a confused look---thinking why i had a p.o box in chico california. "this flight goes to l.a. though i suppose you don't know that either..." I shake my head no --blame it on the accident. He asks if i got some sort of brain injury. I say no. I was on flight 5. "oh...." he says. "Do you know anything about time travel?" i ask. He looks at me with a "yes, but no" look on his face.
He pauses a moment and says,"i've spent most of my whole career work and campaigns on plane crashes. once a woman asked me to help with this aids program they were having. i said i couldn't do it. she got pretty mad, said i was insensitive...asked, how could you not care about a cause like aids? And i said...well because aids has never had any direct impact on my life. ...you know last time i went to california, i flew in twice, just to prove i could do it."

---i assume this man was on my plane with me, i assume he was behind me in the escape tube. i assume he ended up on the flight in the first place because it was attached some sort of wormhole. he is stuck in the same some sort of time travel warp dilemma as i

wake.

closure and the inevitable opposite

we are walking together down the street at night talking. stillness is light weight and hangs in the air like semi-flat soda(literally). we are holding hands or maybe we're not, or maybe sometimes we are and then we stop to let the other - itch his nose or maybe fiddle with some change in his pocket, she as in me, is always open handed waiting.

i am here for work of some sort, an exhibition i believe. i am still alone in life, though i am content and fulfilled. you seem the same, but i wouldn't know. we talk.
"it's looming, so i have to ask, what happened?"
"i dont know. it was too much and i couldn't handle it."
"it was really nothing and it didn't matter. it did, but now it doesn't"
"but it could have mattered, so i acted as it did, and if it would."
"i thought i'd just leave you alone."
"you shouldn't have. i didn't want you to. i wanted you to. and you did the right thing."
"it's good you're living here (missouri, minnesota, it started with an m). i'm in phili now."
"i know."

nothing is settled and shaking it up is useless because what we were is so weightless it can't help but remain suspended. it never quite gets in the way, but it never goes away either. like mineral flakes, in water. and nothing ever happened, so nothing needs to be wrapped up so everything will remain eternally unraveled. and we look at it on the floor like a heap of something that never belonged, but is there only because we bought the materials, and failed to build. or some little yarn ball creature you made some time ago--that's worth the effort it would take to throw away, but you can't help but keep it.

there are only songs and there are also songs. everything i touch sings and everything i touch begs something to be sung to. i am in this and it is a part of me. i feel lost, it's overwhelming. i feel perfectly at ease.