Bluebird

Broken,
Blue eggshells
Scatter across
My dreams

Thin and cold
As smoothed, bright
Winter skies

All have flown



Image & Poem by Krystyna

Misty Song/Land of the Dead

The stairway in my
Parent's house
Holds a procession of those
I know and don't

Walking fast nor
Slow in pace
But with accepted purpose
Smiling, ignoring me

Standing still
I'm made from mist
I watch them climb
Follow in bursts

Choosing from
Bedroom doors
They're gone forever
But still more come

In promised tone
I hear my voice
I know I am in
Limbo

She was there like a ghost
Pouting, angry
That I had not given
Her something I should have

I stayed on the
Landing
Watching them leave
Smoke in still air

Everything told me
That a Storm was coming
Static fingertips
Even at clear midnight

Like I'm far out to
Sea
All silvered moon spray and
Thick, prussian deep


Photography by Krystyna

Dream #23/Aurora

Lying in the
Gap between
You can see
The glow

Frozen phosphor
Frozen eyes
Returning me
To stone

Earth and skies
Bind me down
But happily
I'll go

Lie motionless
In opal tomb
Ice burns
In hearts this cold

Shishigami

I dreamed you were real
When they took your life
It was real

And I could not stop the black tears
From falling

From covering the World
And Moon
And Stars

Dream #22/River

Photo by Eva

Summer Street Fete
Browsing stalls

Sellers won't sell me
Anything

But would rather
Give me things

I ask why
But get no reason

I'm only told
I will need these things

Small coloured beads now
Cover my arms

The last stall
Has a wooden knife

The seller is kind
But pushy

Forces me to take
The knife for free

'You will need it
More than I'


The price tag says
'Nine'


My skirt has a
Pocket shaped

Just like the knife
It fits like a dream

The River was
Beautiful

Full of clumps
Of yellow and white flowers

But they're
Dredging it

Noise and diggers
Smoke fills the sun

Someone is responsible
For turning it all to slush and matter

And I realise
All of this was so that

I could stop this;
Return all to water & petal

And I knew

I would kill for it

We Are Water/For Thomas

Photo by Sian Macfarlane

I found the dead magpie a week ago.


The sun set in time lapse.


Cinders dispersed themeselves in sweeping, honey-grey plumes, thickly spread over the sky.


Jet trails sprayed out from a nearby airport, unceremoniously slicing the brilliant blue iris, over and over.


I could pinpoint this limbo, a place between worlds.



::End/Begin::



The day itself did not exist, but it was still managing to stare me right between the eyes, full on and gleaming.


The earth turned itself inside out, and I could see everything and everyone more clearly; condensed in watery gold, curled up in smoking embers.


Heartbeats in a womb.


Lillies still in the air.



Ashes are even more beautiful through tears.

Dream #21/Cuts

Childhood neighbourhood,
Cloudy day
My cat goes wandering
As cats do

Inquisitively wide-eyed,
Gentle instinct
Leads her to a hidden shop
In the local arcade

Damp, mossy green fence
Walls the alleyway that leads to it
She trots on
Making little chirps at birds

CUT

I am sitting on my bed
When someone hands me
Her little
Head

In my mind's eye
I witness the event;
She's wandered into a Butcher's shop
Masquerading as a Vet's surgery

As it becomes harder to see
For the tears
I imagine what's happened
Visualised in distorted salt water;

Her innocent, trusting nature,
Her tiny body shaking
In the same way I've seen it tremble
On trips to the Vet's before

As he holds up her chin

And makes a slit

Accross the left side

Of her fragile neck


"It's not working, there's too much blood"


Lengthens

The cut

From

Ear to ear


CUT


I hold her head in my hands
Cover her nose and mouth
With my lips
And b-r-e-a-t-h-e.......

Slowly life begins to return
And I retrace her steps
Feeling her thoughts
Until I unite head & body again


CUT


I wake within the dream,
Sit up in bed, frantically looking for her
In the places she likes to sit,
Crying so hard that I can't see her at all


CUT


The whole thing repeats, speeded up
Except this time
When I breathe,
Blood seeps

And I know this time
There is no remedy

Dream #20/Limbo

Collecting tiny Greenfinch
Feathers, with gentle care
For the ceremony

Smoothing them
In my fingers, binding
Ends in silver thread

Choosing little glowing stones;
Icy, speckled light
Paints tiny hand-held caves

Fastening a dim,
Blushing piece of rock
To my feathers

Smells like glow-in-the-dark toys
When I was nine
Looks like it could be a dolls torch


For footsteps in the dark


I am between mountains
Floating at dusk
But only just above the ground

Something hangs in the air
Telling me something I can't pin
An echo of an echo

Suggestion of a
Distortion pedal note
Vibrating the night a little on his way out

A wisp of the heat of the day
Indigo breath
And


Gone


The time is now it seems
Flames flicker in the trees
It's only then I realise


I've left them all behind

Tatarigami

He's in the
Darkest gash

A yawning tear in everything
Where the air is vibrating pitch

Deep yet nowhere
Vast and crushing

Where destruction echos
And buildings fall

Shafts of love
Extend down

As arms of light
To play a while

But can do no more
Than hold hands

Deafening silent cries
Implode what's left

Of scrunched up paper hearts
Numb in dry ice

Asleep with open eyes
Oscillate and shimmer

All is tharn

I Wake Up Crying

Something is squirming in a large, square glass tank.

It's my bedroom, but not as I recognise it. A family's young boy has lived here in previous years, and the tank must be left from some pet he used to have. It's filled with soil and old leaves, piled in the corners. As I wonder what bugs must be living in it now, something white and tapeworm-like squirms under the dirt in the glow from my bedside lamps. I can see it only because it is up against the glass, but under the soil, like a cross section in a worm farm. My face is up against the glass.

I switch on the main light to get a better look, and with the shock of the sudden brightness, the creature wriggles violently. I realise it is much bigger than I originally thought; fleshy, pink and white.

I stagger backwards in fear and disgust, and a small snakes head appears coming out of the tank.

Someone has caught it by the head, and before I can say anything, decides to kill it.

Slit

The

Throat

S
L
O
W
L
Y
...


The snake's eyes glisten and look sad as its' life seeps out tiny drop by drop. There isn't much blood, it seems to take forever to die.

It is then we realise the story; the boy who lived here before was a horrible child, and burned his pet snake so that all but it's head remained with scales. It continued to live in hibernation here, slowly starving.




I wake up crying.







Fragments of another dream trickle back with the snake's demise.

I am watching a show on TV where two contestants must slit the throats of cattle to progress.

They can't do it properly, or quickly enough.

The camera pans from one contestant to the other, standing behind the animals in the gloomy farm stalls, holding their heads up so their necks are exposed.

Dark grey-brown animals, their faces look downy and softer than velvet.

Keeps panning.

Still not done.

Contestants laugh at their inability to perform.

Such slight, long cuts, one by one.

More panning.


I catch the look in the animals' eyes; increasing absence of something indescribably integral, drooping lids, wet.

And my heart wants to implode.

Dream #19/Dust

This house is vast
You could get lost
In its' dimly lit rooms

White metal bedposts
Children sleep here
But not soundly

A boy of four or five
Is crying
But used to the unease

A girl of six
With soft blonde hair
Knows the place all too well

Urgency and innocent faces
Blur into the ether
Dusty, shabby, thick with foreboding

Something awful, someone, entities
Some rooms worse than others
But when its bad, its indescribable

The children run weeping
To the women here at dusk
We know what's happening

But we cannot
Stop it
We try to calm their fears

Sit with them in their rooms
'See, it's not so bad,'
Though the air feels black

No, darker than black
Clouds of impenetrable
Stifling shadow filled with blood

They sit on our laps
Rubbing tear stained cheeks
Sobbing

At the thought of
Yet another night
Spent within these walls

The last of the pitiful shafts of sunlight
Are snatched away in seconds
Disintegrating in sparkling, dusty whirls

The terror builds again
It's survival
There's love here, but I'm not sure it will ever be enough

Dream #18

Fawn shivers sprawled on slate
Could have saved him I know
Like pets I neglected
Who still haunt my dreams making me sick

In shock
He needed a warm blanket

Other animals are no longer
For this world
A whale lies decomposing
On the beach

An operation is underway
To birth her dying children

A thousand
Panda cubs
Burst out
Into the rain

White horses
Run wild through the streets

Dream #17

Adopted a small child
Male
Blonde, blue eyes

On a day trip
To the city
To the sea

Cold, bright breeze
Sun on water
Leaves speak in tongues

Combed the soft hair
On his head
In the museum cafe

Led him by a pale hand
Covered in sandwich crumbs and jam
To a glass booth

Novelty
Kidz
Holiday

Where two men
Have mini ink pads
On each finger

And stamp patterns
On his crown
Transition undefinable

Sounds like
Typewriter keys
Clack-clack-clickclack

Their faces are
Warm, smiling
Despite sense of duty

Dream #16/To Have and Hold

Gabríela Friðriksdóttir

Friends lie sleeping
In white paper bags
Cocooned and warm
On a cold, stony beach
Biting wind and
Freezing misty drizzle

They have collected
Discarded treasures
From the sea,
Ceramic ornaments
And the kind of tat
I love

Some friends are
In white porcelain
Bathtubs with tarnished gold feet
One of them is screaming
Her rage shakes the air
So it begins to fragment

Oscillate and shimmer

I grab her firmly
By the throat
And calmly recite
"It was bound to happen,
Sooner or later..."
Howling wind subsides

Dream #15

Two kittens
Black and white
Sit side by side
Something ceremonial
One male one female
All their
Tiny front paws raised
Thread sewn
Through their feet
So they are
Marrionettes
I am the only one
With scissors
I can do it
Without causing
Too much pain
They wriggle
I snip the stitches
Where they knot
Deep in fur
Bloodied string
Meets innocent flesh

There is no doubt
I've caused pain
But it's over now.

Dream #14/Scratch My Palms, There's Blood on My Hands

My brother is in hospital. My mother and I go to visit him, there are two dogs on his bed for some kind of pet therapy, but he isn't there. A male nurse informs us he is probably getting some food outside, and we are sad that he is making us wait.
When he returns, we take him home on a bus. I sit on his right, my mother on his left. I am trying to tell him something that my mum isn't supposed to hear, but he can't understand one particular word; the word 'in' . I take his hand and trace the outline of the letters with my finger on his palm as it is impossible to speak the secret.

'I'

'N'

He still cant understand, so I keep tracing.
The skin on his hand starts to bleed, and now the word is visible.
I feel terrible.
This bleeding is because of his illness, a weakening of the surface, a weakening somewhere inside.

He understands.

He sits next to a child on the bus, and is instantly transformed into a child himself. He talks to her about how unfairly we are treating him and that he has done nothing wrong.

Our hearts burst open.

Dream #13

I have a son of about twenty
He resents me strongly
And is hurting

Puzzled, I wonder how or when
This all happened
It seems overnight
I am someone's mother
And have been for some time
I still feel the same as I did yesterday
Back in reality

In the dream
Whilst staring at patterned walls
I remember there was
Another dream
I'd had
When I gave birth
In a strange
Half hospital
Half department store
In the beauty section
Abandoned and ashamed
By default
Crying under a pink blanket
That gave no warmth

'This must be when..'

Back to the present
I am older somehow
Though I feel no time
Has passed
Almost as if realisation
Of his birth
Has aged me instantly
I'm living like a has been
Twenties filmstar
In this vast mansion
Full of ornate, dusty
Pretty things
Respected but alone

It's the 1970's
My son is androgynous
And so beautiful it hurts
Dressed in last night's
Fur and beige velvet
Smatterings of silver glitter
On blushed rose cheeks
Effortlessly perfect
Even as a mess
Translucent skin and
Peach beestung pout
As he stands
Talking to his friends about me
I can feel that
He is bitter
As the frozen morning

Sadness in my heart
I know I can never
Change his mind
Or the reason
He feels this way
Though I still have no idea
Why
All I am sure of
Is the boundless, ceaseless
Love I have for him

Leafing through a book of
Opulent photographs
I've taken years ago
Of now antique coloured glass
And decorative objects I've owned
I recall a tiny flame
I once had
In the deepest pit
In the dark caverns
Of my body

My lover doesn't understand
What these photos mean
I feel I did, once,
But not now

Pictures of
Dolls houses turn into
Intricate models
Of candlelit Bethlehem

Dream #12/Pink Steam

We all knew what we were
Going to do
We'd all silently agreed
But your best friend
Was there by accident
So many eyes watching
No-one speaking

One drunk stranger
Thinks it's a show
Just for him
Cantankerous bloated red face
Sleazy mutterings
I grab her hand
And run to another room

But he is there waiting
We hide behind a curtain
I pretend the reason
We're in here
Is because we can see
An old fairground
Through the glass

In the main room
We kiss lightly
Wanting more
Trying more
Eyes glazed in pink steam
It came easily to us
You watched us nearby

Your friend was uneasy, unprepared
Yet all too willing
My eyes would frantically
Search for you
When I'd been to the bar
To see exactly what
You were doing with her, to her

I could never find you
In time to see
Not knowing was
Like a knife to my throat
I knew I could never ask you
Before anything had time to start
The place closed their doors

We staggered home
Feeling strange
Half in a crimson stupa
Friends but not friends
We never had the chance
And now we know
We'll be in limbo forever

Dream#11

Images from Tamala 2010

I am a gentle white cat
From the stars
I can fly when needed
I am part of something
Integral to salvation
The sadness is overwhelming

Something terrible has
Flown over the village
Leaving a trail of destruction
In its' wake
Fire and blood abound
Bodies strew the path they ran

Quiet singing fills the air
The lament permeates all
The dead lie draped over things
A grisly procession
A massacre on a vast scale
I swoop over the carnage

Following this macabre route
Through the streets
And into the village graveyard
Where naive innocents
Had fled that fateful day
In search of safety or protection

They lead me gliding over
The Church itself
Where the roof has been torn off and burned
And the breathless are bountiful
My immortal tears are falling
Glittering to the ground

Falling on everyone and everything
In the knowledge I could not have helped

I wasn't there
I was in heaven

Dream#10

Ornate golden turrets
Rise above houses
Towering higher than
The whole skyline

Castles floating away
As I try
To find batteries
For my camera

Lights pierce clouds
They are evidently
Going to speak
To the stars

This is of
Such great importance
The spires gather
Celestial colours beam

I follow them
Around the house
I grew up in
But it's over

Lights go out
Towers are dull
Summer is gone
I am alone