wrote this this morning   laid in bed eyes shut trying to gleam what he had dreamed . . and failed . . only remnants . .and from those he stitched this together 

where am I 

I am being

I am sensate

feel vibrations

smell scents  wafts 

                     on bluebreezes

hear pings 

            echoes

imagine I watch a thin spider pick its way across shale and see sifts of talcum slither from where its claws cling to stone 

I am conscious of its deliberateness its hunt for where it will weave its web  and wait to dine

I see breaths puff through its book lungs and tracheae and imagine a locomotive steam engine quivering on unseen rails twitch 

      and then there are no rails  it is free to wander

and scale

            breed violently  metal clutch and clash   a full moon howling night orgasm

I am being

revering

elastic

        and shaped in and out

pawed like pure sand or tendrils of smoke

synaptic clefts spread wide and wider  deftly yawning

                                                           groped and pleasantly fingered by innocent excited impulses

explored 

          and why not

being

       heeds no whys or answers or taboos 

1245,  Thursday,  7  3. 13  coming off last night’s dreaming