hummingbird mon in my dream 040225 ... mon it was green hungry in a cage the sun was setting i knew it was dying i picked it some honeysuckle 040225 ... mon tongue sipping nectar tongue first then beak wings legs feathers disappeared transformed it became a caterpillar iridescent a birdworm squirming around in my palm i watched it dance into a butterfly shadow floating away into the smoke from a fire i followed across a field i walked there was a lady standing in a cotton dress by a barn a gaseous bonfire she was throwing things away and down into the flames a bundle of jewels silver rings and gold necklaces burning dangling across her bare arms some were spilling from the paper package she was holding rubies and emeralds set i found myself reading upside down black ink on sand there were words addressed to someone else diamonds they were not hers taken, intercepted she was tossing them into the burning spot i tried to prevent it but she stopped me reminding me who i was i was the one who caged the hummingbird and the names she sang i couldn't remove them from my mind they marked my skin like a tattoo i thought to wait until the fire cooled but it wouldn't stop burning and i fell backwards into another dream followed by a single sound a single word a name it haunted my morning i woke up and told my cat, who purred 040225 ... mon i_have_weird_dreams 040225 ... cr0wl emily dickinson 080625 ... unhinged my gram puts a feeder in her backyard to watch; a big bright plastic strawberry with sugar water inside. 'the color attracts them' 080625 ... not wilco "remember to remember me, standing still in your past, floating fast like a hummingbird..." 080625 ... unhinged my heart fluttering so fast the wings are a blur 080627 ... el A hummingbird finds a bird bath during a heat wave. Its wings palpitate in piqued delight. Gliding through fine mist, it plays and grooms, preens and dips: an aerial dance, jubilance in motion. The heat wave is long. The hummingbird returns, again and again, a thrill of oscillating wings at finding refuge from daylight’s slow cruelty. It submits to wild joy completely. It arrives one day to a bath that is empty of water. It flits from house to house, a frenetic cadence. As the sun climbs, it disappears into a bramble. The water should have been refilled. But it’s nobody’s fault. The hummingbird is too small. It shouldn’t have swallowed the dream so absolutely. 260810 what's it to you? who go blather from