The death of a moon cowboy

I am a somewhat-youth with ideas and thoughts and too many dreams that sometimes overflow as these little dribblings from my fingertips. I guess you can try to collect and capture them.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Library night

For my 291 class that I took online, one of the assignments asked that I write a sonnet. So in ten minutes, I whipped up the beauty that you see below.

Rhyme scheme is abba cddc effe gg, which is one of the forms Wyatt used--technically English (Shakespearean), but really kind of a mix between the English and Italian (Petrarchan).

--- ---

The moon is smiling shyly overhead
like Joyce's shell half-buried on the shore.
I study words, but she whom I adore
is waiting there, half-covered on our bed.

Imprisoned in this building made of glass
and brick and filled with books and endless thought,
wishing I were somewhere I am not,
instead of reading pages for a class.

She waits there patiently, so sleepless, still--
and when I crack the door she'll welcome me
with the warmth of arms and face and body--
but only if I leave this place. I will.

Biking, soundless moonlight searing bright,
I ride toward home to steal her from the night.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Dream, morning of 20070801

My first dream of August.

I must have been at some sort of high school reunion gathering--though I didn't know it at first--at the coast. People were drowning offshore, and I was finding lifejackets and throwing them out to them, telling them to hold on. Jarom was helping me throw them. It was overcast and dismal out, like the Northern California coast; there was a breeze but it was still warm out. I was wearing my Lotus lifejacket, dressed to raft. I went running to find more lifejackets to save people. I ran past Lisa Adams, and turned, recognizing her, shouted her name. She didn't notice me, and I had to keep running, had to save people. I turned into a little shop, and there was Evan Lehrman and Scott the tennis player [note to self: look up his last name in the yearbook]. Evan said, "Hey dude" and I said hey in return. They looked surprised and one said, "You have a goatee!" And I was offended because I did *not* have a goatee, I just had some scruff that grew in thicker around the chin. Then I grabbed some lifejackets out of the breadbox and said, "Sorry, people are drowning." And they just sipped back on some beverages while I ran outside again.

I threw out a few more vests. Then I found a gondola-boat and rode it inside the cathedral, where the moat was internal and wove through the church. It was beautiful inside, with ornate ornaments carved in soft cream-colored stone: lions' heads and candlesticks and posts and columns.

I got off the gondola later and was hurriedly going elsewhere when I ran into Mom by some steps. She was looking for me, worried about me. I said I was fine, not to worry, then went running again down the halls, softly carpeted in red and lined with golden metalwork and draped with fine bloodred silk curtainry.