SOL: Shaken

she is the only
one completely at ease in
this kind of dive bar.

3AM Thoughts // AKA “Haiku 112.”

SOL: Reverie

she carves her teeth on
slices of reality
lost to fantasy

3AM Thoughts // AKA “Haiku 95.”

MIND: Femininity

Fifty years ago I was born a female human animal. This, I was told, meant that I was a “Woman.” But I never knew what they meant.

Am I that which I observe or that which observes me?

What is a Woman? // Leonora Carrington

MIND: Illusion

The sailor dreamt of a woman
who stared at the sea, then tired
of it, advertised her freedom.
She said to her friend: I want
all the fire one can have
without being consumed by it.
Clearly, I dreamt the woman too.

The Snowmass Cycle // Stephen Dunn

MIND: In Memoriam

some dogs who sleep At night
must dream of bones
and I remember your bones
in flesh
and best
in that dark green dress
and those high-heeled bright
black shoes,
you always cursed when you drank,
your hair coming down you
wanted to explode out of
what was holding you:
rotten memories of a
rotten
past, and
you finally got
out
by dying,
leaving me with the
rotten
present;
you’ve been dead
28 years
yet I remember you
better than any of
the rest;
you were the only one
who understood
the futility of the
arrangement of
life;
all the others were only
displeased with
trivial segments,
carped
nonsensically about
nonsense;
Jane, you were
killed by
knowing too much.
here’s a drink
to your bones
that
this dog
still
dreams about.

Eulogy To A Hell Of A Dame // Charles Bukowski

SOL: Mistress

I want to hold her.
Grab her by the wrists as she
Steps from the shower covered in
Morning dew, even flowers
Turn their heads towards her
Laughter, I would give her the sunrise.
Electric smooth peach fuzz, cherry coloured
Lips part and I am dazzled again.
I want her always.
I want it to hurt.
I wonder vaguely if the pain of her
Leaving will sink in slowly or
All at once.



All at once.

3AM Thoughts // AKA “At Sunrise. On The Roof.”

MIND: Rolling

She was like fate–a consummate mistress of all the arts of self preservation: hair rolled & lustrous; eyes so nonchalant; nothing could startle her; people going & coming all the time; she not looking, yet knowing, fearing nothing, expecting nothing.

// Virginia Woolf