dreamless pilgrim Up before the Sun Never Sleep in anymore I miss the long lingering Dream Time That Slipping in and out of the Warm Fuzzy Space Between Worlds Now it's All About the Dogs Not Disturbing the Neighbors with their Insistent Incessant Barking If Only I wasn't in an Urban Enviroment I could just leave them to Roam While I Explore the Nature of the Neural Synaptic Space The Lathe of Heaven 021105 ... limanne Never sleep in. too long, too long screeching alarms disturbing. If there was ever a dream filled evening it ended too long, too long ago. 021105 ... ovenbird On dreamless days I must grow myself from seed in the cracked soil of an imaginal desert. I lap up the dew that has gathered. Not even enough to wet my tongue—the flash of a raccoon tail, a fork and knife set silently on a plate, a party I attended but now cannot recall, as if I wiped everything out with debauchery, and don’t even have a hangover to show for it. I find that I’m angry. I have so little to feed me and my mind won’t even give up the crumbs of its nocturnal fairy tales. I am an orphan, abandoned by my own mind, left on a cold doorstep, without a scrap of story to keep me warm. I grow to be a beggar, a chipped bowl beside me, singing for alms each night as the sun sets, and waking to nought but crusts of bread and rancid meat. I drink the swill at the bottom. I take what I can get, no matter how unsatisfying. My dreams see me huddled in the doorway, dirty and thin and dressed in rags. They walk on without so much as a pitying glance. Whatever gold they carry in their pockets lands in other hands. 260617 what's it to you? who go blather from