Thursday, November 7, 2013

Nightmare Of The Leaf






Nightmare of the Leaf



I've forgotten how to dance.

In that panic freeze
something's wheezing behind me,
ponderous but light
on its feet
as a fat man
who dances like helium.

Big-Belly bumps me
 into a darkroom
whose unlikely window
displays a maple-leaf,
red
rhymed with diamond grief
just past my  hand,

a moment away
from falling
forever.





~November 2013








55 deciduous dream dilemmas for       the g-man









Image: Leaf Motif 2, Pattern of Leaves, both by Georgia O'Keefe
via wiki-paintings.org
May be protected by copyright. Posted under fair use guidelines.


18 comments:

  1. seriously...when i dream of dancers, they are never fat men....just saying...unless its a nightmare....with banjos...smiles.

    diamond grief...great descriptor...sharp and hard...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Georgia O'Keefe is brilliant! Love her. And you are companion her well as this is a bit abstract - I have seen some light "fat men" on their feet (but sweating profusely :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Huzzah!!!!!
    I've finally become the Fat Man of your dreams!!!
    You sure Rock Out the Nightmarish Adventures
    Loved your Freudian 55
    Thanks for sharing the innermost dysfunctions of your sleep patterns
    I'll send you the bill.
    Thanks for another Outer-Limits episode
    Your The best Joy....Have a Kick Ass Week-End

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ha! Sometimes a fat man is just a cigar. ;_) Thanks, G--have a posterior-impacting weekend your own self.

      Delete
  4. lol - that's an interesting dream. The helium made me giggle and the imagery (as always) was sublime. Even your dreams are poetic, hedgewitch!

    ReplyDelete
  5. i don't know which is the worse nightmare ~ forgetting how to dance or being a leaf falling away forever! brilliant!

    ReplyDelete
  6. I love the use of words here: panic freeze, ponderous, wheezing . . . the fat man dancing like helium. I see him and his big belly. I hear him wheezing. I don't want to be in that dream.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I was looking at it from the perspective of the leaf and the fat man felt awful but also rather like a big gust of wind bumping the leaf about though it also felt like a person (and the leaf not a leaf). The panic freeze is rather like the cold snap that turns maple leaves so red and the rhymed diamond grief. To me at least.like ice rime. Or something like that. And the fall forever-- you know-- what happens to leaves. I could also see the big belly bundling the leaf in a big trash bag (black)! But it also felt like the description of a terribly abusive situation and the leaf a rather sad figure of a person. Wonderfully distilled and vivid--tha big belly has great menace. K.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, k--this is just a very literal transcription of a dream--one of those terrifying ones where you can't move or run while something very inimical is pursuing. I remember quite sharply the color and shape of the leaf, scarlet, white-edged, and waiting in vain for me to catch it on its way down. Who knows what this means? not me. ;_) Hope your weekend is refreshing and productive.

      Delete
  8. Your dreams just amaze me, as does your poetry. Lovely imagery.

    ReplyDelete
  9. a bit creepy, with some acid flashbacks thrown in. I get a feeling of being in one of the other rooms at the Red Queen's palace, an alternate story line, if you will, with this imagery ~

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I've spent a lot of time down the rabbithole. Thanks, M.

      Delete
  10. Creepy dreams but I do like the red rhymed with diamond grief ~ Happy Friday ~

    ReplyDelete
  11. just for a moment there, reading, I felt I was that leaf, falling into forever - & a leaf forgetting how to dance (just as I too have at times forgotten)... somehow brings me to tears
    beautiful image & imagery

    ReplyDelete
  12. Oh if fat met men where like helium sounds both scary and hilarious

    ReplyDelete
  13. So from your tags I'm going to gloss a burp from that part of the belly where all the indigestible LSD is still groovin' -- or some other fetor of history dreams keep dissembling. We write poems when we dream, dream when we write poems. Same soul-gurgle, diff'rent day.

    ReplyDelete
  14. You've certainly caught the panicky, helpless feeling of such dreams here, Joy, where everything is imbued with weird importance and the threats are often indistinct but all the more disturbing for that.

    ReplyDelete

'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg