My "Pistachio Owl" ... Pistachio's have been around since 6750 BC. This may be the first image of an owl made from the Pistachio. I've told Mr. Pistachio in our various conversations that he is a culinary nut, not a botanical nut. He's not much interested in bits and pieces from Wikipedia. Since making his image, he has appeared in a number of dreams, always with the feeling of urging me on to something that he seems to know about but I'm a bit slow in getting to it. He's great to have around.

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They ask me

Sunday, February 12, 2017

7:32 AM

They ask me why I risk

life and limb or worse

with these people

these people of the street

It is my assignment

I tell them as they look

queerly at me clearly

wondering at my sanity

Most will back away

at this point not waiting

for elaboration or any

answer to their query

But the answer is thus:

years ago a dream voice

said, "Listen to the voiceless

open your eyes to the unseen."

And so I have listened and

and looked, time and time

again and will continue

and what do dreams tell you?

The Cane

Sunday, February 5, 2017

11:43 AM

His cane was not a proper cane

just a stick—well a branch to be

exact, should exactness be

required in such matters.

I learned his name was "Z"

because he was always last

to be chosen or to hear the news.

Last and lost, he repeated, smiling.

What are those notches?

Days when something good happens.

And the bad days?

Man, nothing big enough for that.

Could I try out your memory cane?

No one ever interested before

Feels good, nice heft

I think I'll make me one.

Now that's a good thing

Worth two notches I'd say

Good luck in finding yours

Mr. Z, you are first in my book!

I met him there

there on the sidewalk

sitting against the wall

of the ramshackle bar

Bedraggled one would say

in describing his condition

his weathered cardboard sign

declaring "Anything…God bless"

"You're the dream doc, aren't you?"

he announced, extending his hand

shaking it, I said, "Yes, how did you know?"

"They say you always wear owl shirts."

"Yes, it's true. My totem animal. You have one?"

"What's a totem?" I sat down beside him.

"Well, if you were an animal, what would you be?"

"Hey man, I'm just a bum. They call me Crazy Gus."

"Well, Mr. Crazy Gus, do you dream of any animals?"

"Nah, I can't remember dreams worth shit, no…nothing."

"Wait. Awhile back, months maybe. It was an elephant.

It was standing on its hind legs and it was a funny blue.

Must have been the stuff I was using. Crazy, like they call me."

"OK Gus, for now, your totem is a blue elephant. Name him."

"Max. Just popped in my head when you asked. Max. Yes."

I got up, shook hands, and said, keep Max close. Mr. Gus."

Deep dark wrinkles etch the face looking up at me

An Indian at the post office, back against the wall

Legs curled under him, or maybe none at all

His sign reads: homless, hungry, plees help me

I kneel down, knees on the ground, now eye to eye

Strange alter--the thought flashes and rushes by

What tribe I ask, pulling out bills for this hungry guy

Duwamish he says, sounding shy with a tear in his eye

You know of Princess Angeline then, Seattle's daughter.

Ma told me stories yes, said that gramma knew her

No one believed her, cause she was a whisperer

But I've been where Wewick squatted, with her beads and her water

How about we exchange: give me a dream, I give you dollars

You the crazy man, but I'll play. You serious?

Ask your friends. They call me Doctor Serious

You a doc? PhD, a freeloading member of a community of scholars

What's with the rhymes? Keeps the talk from being small

What's the dream? I was gettin' outa the wind at the new hotel

They called the police and ran me off. Today it happened, real as hell

Same as the dream. At the Marriott? Yes, just using their damn wall.

Can't see it's worth two bucks he says as I hand him the money

Oh it is, it is, and more, but that's my going rate for now

I'm off to the Marriott, I'll explain the origin of my new vow

I will say, I will not stay, I will not pay, not even a copper penny

Another Kind of Blue

Monday, January 23, 2017

4:14 AM

and        and  and         and         and                    and

fffft                     ffft                              fffsssss

First Aide: Whoa girl, you're drinking from a pail…not good

Second Aide: She's

cat's tail, monkey's mail, all hail the third rail

argghhhhhh

Policeman: she's not making any sense

cracks in                           facts

                artifacts for                  sealing wax

Social worker: She presents as a 30-year old delusion.

black in                    white       not                           polite

give me                                                 candlelight

Doctor: No, it's chlorpromazine for you young lady.

lights out                         no                  doubt

hey                        doc    wanna gawk        a hawk   a fauk

Nurse: Room seven will be available shortly.

i'm an                        alternator             forthe     dictator  

i'm a               leading                       indicator

ok                       ok                   I'm           outa       here   

hear                        

Sickness Afoot

Thursday, January 19, 2017

7:22 AM

The Parliament of Owls is in session

But we cannot see their eyes

Their heads are looking behind them

Because owls do not move their eyes

What's coming comes from behind

It's not what is clearly seen, so visible now

It's the sickness afoot, the sickness coming

That's what the owls are looking for now

Sickness is afoot, evil's in full view

Sickness is afoot, where is our guide?

Sickness is afoot, what to do? What to do?

Sickness is afoot, where resides the guide?

Leonard wrote that magic is afoot

And Buffy sang his words

Leonard wrote that God is alive

And Buffy sang is words

But now, sickness is afoot,

And evil is alive, and where is our guide?

Sing the song that's in your dream

Dreams of the night will be our guide!

A Note…

In the dream I saw owls sitting on branches of a tree.

No eyes could be seen as they were all looking behind

them. A sound began to rise, I think it was from the owls,

singing the line, "Sickness is afoot."

As I woke, I started hearing Buffy St. Marie singing

Leonard Cohen's words from his book, Beautiful Losers.

Dreams have to do with the future. Our conscious intentions

as well as our hopes are all formed from what we know,

from what is past.

The owls know what is coming. Look to your dreams

to provide the hints.

How the War on Reality Ended

Tuesday, January 10, 2017
6:22 AM

http://ralockhart.com/WP/HowWarOnRealityEnded.wav