Dream #6: Isaac

Gabriel Ojeda-Sague

April 27, 2016

I’ll be the joke in the basement,
the kid stuck there with a cross in hand,
you be the bad things chasing me around
in six circles, getting dizzier as things
get pink through the one window, that window I love.

Miss me: the face is split into three,
but unionizing, page four.
You are full of yolk, family secrets,
dirty shit, cheap shoes. I let it out
in ropes, bad ideas. I don’t shoot
like a laser, it just kinda flows down.

I’m trying to prove a point that I
know something about technicians,
but nobody misses information. Spent
my last birthday getting older. Give me
the gift of gutting, or being in the gut,
I want to see the kids you keep in your
gut. The left wall: it’s got its own drama
just behind the wallpaper, six coins,
two fires, something white shining
in the middle, something hanging
and shining white; I’m full of white,
I’ve gotten dizzy in white. Sometimes
when kids are sleeping they get whiter.