Halloweeeeeen...

...it was fun. But not the reason for blogging. I got up this morning, made some coffee, had a smoke and opened up my email. I only had one today, from the Sam's Dot Publishing Company, saying they are accepting my poem "Stained Glass" for the Spring 2010 edition. I'm pretty excited, but more in a state of disbelief. Wow. I guess.

Fever Trippin' (Poem Verson - 1st draft)

Laying down looking up

at white walls splashed with

colors of electric candles

while my spinning brain matter aches.

Reaching from bed frames

four, five, six kraken fingers

dart and dash, upwards and downwards

The fear. The fear made flesh lids

cover my red eyes.

Now open again

white walls.

Cries escape me, with little else to do

“Won’t you help?”

as wet, slim crawls me.

Fever Trippin'

When I was 18 years old, I was bitten by a mosquito and develop the West Nile virus. I had the virus for nearly two weeks, during which, my life seemed to turn upside down. Bed-ridden, I was unable to go to school, see friends or go out doors. The virus spread quickly after blood sucking bug, rested on my right shoulder, during a weekend at Lake Eufaula. By the time I had gotten home, the fever had begun to set it.

Hours later, my skin was crawling, my head was pounding and my body heat had jumped to 104 degrees. Sweating and scared, I took to my bed. At the time, I wasn’t aware that the viral invasion was the cause of my ever-inflaming lymph glands and the dizzy, spinning feeling that clouded my head. Out of pure exhaustion, I was finally able to fall asleep, yet my fever was still going strong.

The dream was vivid. I was at home, but the house didn’t look like the one I had grown up in. The furniture was moved out of place, heavy dark drapes blocked the windows and doors and music was constantly in the background; I couldn’t recognize the music was. Colors began to appear all around me and at first I thought I was in a good place, a peaceful one, without fear. My house had turned into a Christmas lights display. Dancing all around were the brightest greens, purples, blues, reds, and yellows. I felt warm and tingly inside. This feeling wouldn’t last long. I began to feel like something was closing in on me, like I was being hunted.

In the dream, I laid down on my bed, where I thought I would feel safe and closed my eyes. When I opened them again four or five large octopus tentacles were hovering over me, in what looked like an attack position. When I tried to get off my bed, the tentacles grabbed at me, which is when I noticed they were coming from underneath the bed. Just as I had gotten to the bedroom door, one of them took hold of my ankle and started pulling me under the bed. I screamed loud, as loud as I could. My dog was the only one who answered my cries for help.

Jesse was a Boston terrier for eleven years before we had to put him down, because little worms were eating her heart. She walked in my room, just as the monster octopus or whatever was sucking me beneath my bed, and simply stood and watched. The strangest part of the dream was Jesse’s face, which wasn’t her face. Her body was the same, but the face was Leonard Nimoy’s. Jesse stood there as I was being eaten alive by a giant worm, octopus monster. The last thing I saw before waking up was Jesse holding up one paw giving me the Vulcan salute.

I woke up a day and a half later. My wild fever dream lasted somewhere in the neighborhood of fourteen hours.

Snoqualmie Falls

Boundless evergreens and big leaf maples

Cover dirt and leaves for miles

Beyond the eye’s aptitude

From a small lookout point

Atop the Snoqualmie water.

Here I forget my city streets

And forsake feeling of separation.

A mild wind scrapes my back

At the first glimpse of dirt.

A sole trail staring

Downwards to

Snoqualmie’s mouth.

With a mind wondering

Big leaf maples shade

My charging feet

Towards the dead stumps

Adorned with the new evergreen life.

The nursing trees. Some hollow as death

Others full.

The lone trail opens

To a rocked beach

As wind gathers vim.

There Snoqualmie breathes

Cold mist on my face and arms.

I wipe mist from my eye

Before a silent gasp sneaks

From my mouth

Following a smile

As the two hundred foot roaring rainy curtain

Baptizes

The rocks below.

Snoqualmie’s water

Once blue

Now the color of evergreen from algae.

A tan faced child screams on a stone alter

Draping the lagoon.

The naked Snoqualmie girl

Scans—

Rocks and trees and water

For a Snoqualmie mother’s hand.

My ankle loosens

Above the rocked beach

As she fell.