A goat limps from the labyrinth hauling presents in my nightmare sack—
Dead pet monkey, blood swept up by Alice from The Brady Bunch,
Mr. Banana's limp carcass like an empty backpack, or
A polar bear tears to pieces an object never discovered without the blur.
Could be a rough collage of this family—the Late Cough syrup era?
No luck. Each night I am sucked into the valley.
I can never push the hill, but here, the hereafter, I can say the earth’s tumor
It turned into a rhino, the rhino spoke english, very broken.
The coffee mug dangling from his snout represents my angst.
I have waited twenty years for the giant green teeth to return, to finally swallow
That backhoe that churns apart my house every dream cycle
Leading to another bright day. My midnight babble!
Or an airplane scoots this doofus to a new place to collapse like Wyoming.
My flight attendant is me, I am out of peanuts. I have not the guts
To hop down the inflatable slide into another sea writhing with bees.