And still I remain in the old dream,
though I wonder if it’s a riddle,
a water line, not low, not high —
but actually an arrow pointing
around to negative zero
where everything is another thing.
Too many fantasies of lovers
housed in the wrong buildings,
buildings where the rust bleeds through;
but ruins you can’t burn down.
Mixing fantasy A with lover B,
leading to friend C in resolution.
Ruins on which I build an addition,
add the cracked wall to it’s subtraction.
Foundations that are islands
encroached by distant laughs
drifting ashore to the chimney,
a hearth of stubborn almosts.
I end up an island returned
floating between each lover
with my ass in the middle,
and face down in the old dreams
of all the other lovers,
and all dreams not of love.
I slide between sex and ambition,
becoming a star, making it big.
I sense the audience fantasizing
my image when I was younger,
just as I fantasize you
in our almost given permissions
as I come to, in my cast iron tub,
awakened by the self-portraits
that people my dreams in disguise.
The water has gone cold now,
and that clock also has meaning.
Thank you for reading this new and revised poem in my sponsored poem series, which is the five dollar a month pledge option here on patreon. Includes a free gift this month. Email me at [email protected] if you prefer to use PaPal for one lump sum, or use snail mail. This sponsored poem was inspired by a recently released song by Carrie Beehan and some other clues she gave me, though it turned out to have nothing to do with her concept at all, which may be something this poem is about in itself, or will be. I'm quite sure I'll re-write it some more. I really can't predict where these poems will go, so there is risk in getting involved in my poetry in that way. But isn't that fun? Throw me some ideas and see how I take them in some "God Awful" direction(God Awful being a metaphysical construct?) My process is complex and alchemical, and merges with ideas of interest to me, etymological and other research (I have hundreds of reference books I work from randomly) while hopefully maintaining enough smart ambiguity to link into your own synchronicity, as a reader.
Below: An image of the piano-paper encaustic collage ME LOVE. These works were given away at the 20 dollars or more a month pledge, up until my last birthday (all have been distributed), in addition to the artwork ascribed to your pledge level. But if you pledge now I'll probably still want to make you a bonus artwork because I love you and enjoy doing it.