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Dreams & Castles - April 13

I wake from a dream that sprays

out of my face and onto the walls,

sails out my eyes and nose,

pools on the pillow.


Through blood, teeth, naked women, and goats, I see me in a van with the Air Force gypsy

who writes lyrical poems and hikes sheer cliffs near a Shetland castle.


Minutes ago we were steaming up windows.

I am now drowning in our mist,

thinking how glad I am to never have to clean another kitchen.





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