dreams coming true

dreams come true and wishes come true and words ring out across minds of minefields, minefields of minds and meaning gets made and stories get told and nothing can untell them. nothing can untell the stories and nothing can undream the dreams and even in this lifetime sometimes the cost benefit analysis of dreaming and seeking spells and casting nets and longing toward whatever comes of whatever comes starts the spinning of the world's words and these are different than the ones never uttered in the mind of their creator. i can dream things and wish things, cast spells and uncover things covered up, expose them to the bright light of what will surely misunderstand them and then what? what about stories spun in such a way that people travel to the space and place in the world where the stories occurred and something random happens to them in that place that was nothing but heaven in the story? something that catches them in a kind of hell they might never have accessed except through the words, the energy, the morphic tale of place? i am caught, forever? in the persephone myth diving deeper toward the truth of my greece, my crete, and knowing that beyond this god damn pomegranate, there is some kind of africa central to the webbing out of dreams remembered. i know from lucy that my oldest human ancestor is from africa--that's the science, and those are the stories, and the ones i've chosen to believe into being with all my well being and now the pomegranate myth continues its echoes through changes reverberating throughout my web of life. dreams come true. even nightmares. cycles live their cyclones. i whirl around in the myth and the story, the reading of other people's books, the writing of my own, the coffee, the coffee, the coffee required to stay up all night and find that vortex? that current? that offers up the words that come when they do from wherever they live before they arrive in the moments of typing. priming the pump of pumping the water up from the underground river of central to life imagery always flowing, flowing, flowing, flowing, flowing in the flow of the river that can't be pushed and the styx that is more than a band and the rush of neal pert drums and the dream of music and following a beat and breaking up an energy of breaking up. how do we stop breaking up? i am called to a path of post post modern deconstructive deconstruction. how to get back to the rubble of what is under the ground? i think about these steps taken in these new boots on sidewalks covered in other people's wanderings. i make my relationships with the things of light post and corner, found sticks and string. i continue making the dream catchers from the circles that fall off in my neighborhood, the "trash" that offers itself as artifact and art making material that falls directly in my path. i will soon make a craig's list offering of thing, thing, thing, thing, thing. we are going to empty the big house now. i am not going to have that lament in the on-going of on-goingness. what to do with all we've accumulated? where does it go? when does it get there? how can the elgin marbles get out of the british museum and back to greece? how can the sacred artifacts of all peoples get returned to the places that know how to care and feed them? this morning, for breakfast, i looked at images of french armor and sacred swords. i thought of metal foundries and artifacts made for the purposes of purposefulness. i considered all that can be considered about what can no longer be considered as useful. how to break the glass that keeps things that are supposed to be together apart? how to move the dream in the direction of the truest truth--the one of love that feels like love--the one that allows for rest in the majesty of a manifestation. rest. rest, rest, rest, rest, rest, rest, rest.
how to make dreams come true without time for dreaming????
i consider the papers left to write.
the miles and miles of papers left to write
in a world that's losing its forests
and an ocean filling up with old computer parts....

the personal is political.
dreams come true.
all of them.
dejavu.