Dream Woman and The Jackal

‘Rainy Night’

It had been raining
(Summer has been eclipsed
By rain and storm
This year,
And May,
Whose glorious sunlight
So allures us,
Is wearing
April’s mask
Of tears
And smiles).”
 –Victor Hugo
I. Dream Woman
Dream Woman
Sits outside
In the cool air
In Her chair
She looks comfortable
A warm wrap
Around Her legs
From where She sits
The Ocean is visible
The waves
In the distance
Not quite clear
I don’t even hear them
Perhaps Her hearing
Is better than mine
Dream Woman sits and reads.
I walk alone near the ocean.
Her greeting is warm
And we talk of books.
Spring arrives on the land
As we speak softly
Dream Woman says
She has a book
To return to me
I don’t remember
Giving it to Her
Still I trust Her memory
More than my own
What then of the book?
I wish I knew
Which book
She meant.
She says
I lent it to her
But did I really?
I would like to ask Her
If this is Her dream
Or mine
But I know
She would say
It’s a shared dream
Dream Woman
Has been in my dreams
For all my life
Why have I not noticed
Her presence
Until this last year?
Has old age
Wakened  me more
To Her presence?
She seems to be waiting
Her patience
Seems endless
Her eyes eternal
Her voice gentle
Yet Her words
Move me
With their Strength
And Wisdom
I feel so foolish
Yet She is always kind
Treating me
As an equal
Like a friend
Or a brother
Yet somehow
Even closer
It feels Like
She has
Always
Known me.
It seems
Mysterious,
Like our hearts
Are beating as one.
How is this possible?
Sometimes I wonder
Who She really is
But somehow I know
She would laugh
If I asked Her.
And Stranger still
I Know
That I too
Would laugh
When I wonder
Why do I not see Her
When I awaken
I hear Her voice
Telling me
That waking life
Is really the dream
And Dreams
The truer reality
Another oddity:
I have always
Believed this
To be true.
That Dreams
Always
Have seemed to me
Truer
Than waking life
Why do I
Sometimes
Doubt this?
Why do I
Sometimes
Trust the illusions
That make up
Our everyday lives?
When I ask Her
About this
She only laughs
And again
I laugh with her too.
Dream Woman
Tells me
She likes how
I make Her laugh.
Fool that I am,
I guess that’s
What I do well
II.  The Jackal
“How does it feel
to be dead? I say.
You touch my knees
with your blue fingers.
And when you
open your mouth,
a ball of yellow light
falls to the floor
and burns a hole
through it.”
— Ai Ogawa
The Jackal really has no friends
For death has no friends
But death knows us all
Knows where we live
Perversions of the soul
Waiting for death
Corpses floating
Demonic howls
Waiting to kill
Fated dark moons
Waiting
and
Waiting
and
Waiting
And Jackal kills
Kills to live
Like all of us
He has to eat
Sated on corpses
That float face down
Covered in Death
Consumed in Death
The rivers of blood
Death
and
Death
and
Death
Shadows of blood
Painting progress
Deeper
Searing Spirits
Tearing
Deeper
Gouging
Deeper
Sharp-eyed
Death
Deeper
and
Deeper
and
Deeper
Falling forlorn
Seeking Death
In Darkness
Stretched and broken
Reeking of decay
And Darkness
Straying betraying
Cadaverous flesh
In Darkness
And Death
Darkness
and
Darkness
and
Darkness
Gray eyes
Watching
Reflected shadows
Watching
Soulless bodies
Watching
Bloodless
Darkness
Watching
All of us
Jackal’s Prey
Watching
and
Watching
and
Watching
Jackal sated
Does not sleep
No life is safe
In the dark
Yamabuki
March 2010
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