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June 3rd, 2018

Vast

Weird, interrupted sleep last night, with a dream that was vivid and also filled with characters who were angry and being aggro. I had to travel with them.

I'd rather not focus on that, so I'll focus on what else was striking about that dream. I'd look out from the bus where some of the dream took place, and as it made its steady pace along an imagined freeway I looked out across a very, very, very big city. A stretching-beyond-the-horizon city, with landmarks and mountains (the Space Needle or something much like it appeared) dotted everywhere, so much of it striking. So much of it seeming like a place I could visit. Bits of it I did, because dream.

The thing is, my subconscious did a lot of world-building last night, as my dream-self had a small-scale drama of how to best relate to people who were angry. Must have been a lot of my mind.

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Mosquito
by Christopher Walsh, 6/3/2018





Your entirety is sharp,
Angle stuck to angle stuck to angle,
Wings angry-droning in insistent searching for
Where to, sharply, poke your blood-nose
Into blood providers.
We run on blood. You eat it.
You can't think of the left-behind itchy welts you cause
(Let alone anything possibly malarial)
You just find meat then meat then meat
That could have what feeds you.
You might as well see blood everywhere,
A meat parade Clive Barker might write about
If he wanted to convey annoyance, not horror.
I know: you fit a niche,
You (and your billion-billion relatives) filling a role
That Nature prepped for something sharp.
You need feeding. So do I.
I'll still accept the small satisfaction
Of slapping you into bloodless lifelessness,
Ideally before you eat.
That sharpness ends, then.

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