Poetry
from Daydreams
Daydream
I’m driving through Texas when all of a sudden I drive into a cloud of butterflies, millions of wings hit the windshield and I have to use the wipers to see anything.
Daydream
I have HIV. I contact my mother.
Daydream
I have an implant in my eyes for a head’s up display to show me how the health in my three hearts is doing, how much energy for magic I have left, and which weapons I have equipped. Then I realize I might just still be drunk.
Daydream
A three dimensional space represented by a two dimensional object.
Daydream
In words, breathless wandering backed by wonder. Each moment blasted moved over just inches to mean a new feeling as if feelings were moved by senses. The trees moved as if by a current then, like the one we circled around, each thought brought to a resounding close. Ducks found places in the reservoir, far enough away to blend with the broken glassed waves, faced away from the sun, greygreen and anchored.
Daydream
Partially hydrogenated evaporated Gatorade.
Daydream
Each brought forth life from her body, watched alone in an ampitheater in Central Park, she sang while skateboards rounded through trees and thrusted their way to the front of the fight - frightening each cell of my body and I have a question about video art but I'll ask that later, for now I'll settle for soft, resounding vibrations.
Daydream
My body feels like I'm inside my own body not like a shell but as if I'm a smaller body moving within myself and so small I can put my arms out without anyone noticing.
Daydream
Grand delusions epic in scale threaten to release the mother blood dashed and deferred down the stairs, on each floor a curve back around to a starting place noticed only by a tilt of the head sideways -- here you realize the plane you've been running around elongates and descends.
Daydream
Frothing, foaming bubbles spurt out colliding and mitosing, flying out of order with each perfect line coming to bring them back to center. Each piece, a collateral, each piece, an object. Stored every day one by one, no agent has been sprayed without passing through mesh fabric first. Water repels the bubbles, forcing their movement outward and up, impenetrable from either gas or water, stuck on a horizon.
Daydream
I walk down from a mezzanine into a different climate.
Daydream
We were two colors who sat side by side. And populating the center: each moment passed between us, a midpoint, saved one by one, until the two became a spectrum of hues, sometimes convex, sometimes concave, and if looked at from the side now, bends from the canvas like the first half of a sine wave. A shifting field of color, at once both you and me, an in between with infinite iteration.
Contributor
James La MarreJames La Marre obsesses. He lives and does work in New York City.