World Dream Bank
add a dream -
art gallery -
dreamed 2008/9/24 by Wayan.
Work dawn to dusk. Add other poets to
the World Dream Bank. Scan, edit, tap code
for others' odes. No creative work, no fun,
not even rest. No, wait, I did take one
break. I basement-hunkered with my bike:
clanged and swore an hour. Black oily grit.
O caveman holiday! Then back to it.
I'm driving out a three-mile cape
I've never seen before,
from San Francisco east into the Bay.
Its barren north shore
was quarried long ago. Shale cliffs, red grit--
topsoil all industriously stripped
till the bust, postwar.
Factories whistle windowless now, due
to rock-toss ventilation. High-tech
firms fixed a few, and Kaiser built a new
clinic on a bluff. The old shoreline track,
hulking on black trestles round the cliffs,
now is light rail. But the few homes still
look sad and trashed--six decades in eclipse.
I snake up a hillroad out of the red
dead zone, into the cape's steep heart.
Weedy lots, stumps and rusty cars;
then dells hiding trees with bulbous trunks
and sudden palmlike crowns of dark
feathery cedar needles. The next grove's
taller, looming leap! Till as we near
the south shore we're
craning our necks in amaze; these
crazy trees rise a hundred yards or more!
Give even redwoods a run for the sun.
Endemic: only here.
This is wrong. My native readers know.
Green in the south, but a dry north shore?
True, in Frisco cloud-woods grow
next door to sunny chaparral. But north
slopes get more rain and fog than south.
So the northern blight's not microdrought!
It's us. Well, evil grandpas. Up until
the Gold Rush, giants jostled wall to wall
But loggers cut them all, all
they could cheaply reach and haul,
then sold the ravaged soil.
Rains and patient mist'll surely lure
climax back. But while I breathe? Ah, no.
Titans massacred for miles take more
than human span to grow.
- Industry: my industry. I slaved all day to showcase others' dreams.
- Lost topsoil: my health! I worked nonstop and by dusk I hurt.
- Kaiser clinic: a California hospital chain. The dream hints "go on like this and you'll end up in the hospital!"
- Trees unique to San Francisco: my dreams. Others may build virtual planets or write bizarre music. But if I don't dream my dreams, who will?
- Gold Rush loggers spared just one grove: John Muir saved one grove, but most local redwoods were cut to build our Victorians (my own roof is redwood)
- The dead factories:
- The 2008 recession, caused by reckless deregulation. A parting kiss from George W. Bush, after his two wars, global warming, monster deficits and wrecking Manhattan and N'Orleans. What a busy boy.
- My boom-&-bust health cycle. Get sick, rest, get well, feel good, overwork (makin' hay while the sun shines!) til I sicken myself again.
- ACTION: ration non-creative work--email, editing, journal-writing, games. Do anything but! Paint, yoga, songwrite, read, walk, nap, throw rocks at factory windows! Or you'll end up rust.
- This is Dreamverse #30. "Every day, a dream-poem", that's my motto. But this week I failed. Failed utterly. Blighted by my own... industry.
LISTS AND LINKS:
prescriptive dreams -
business and industry -
Only in San Francisco -
pencil dream-art -
dream poetry -
the Dreamverses project -
the next Dreamverse: Hamm
World Dream Bank homepage - Art gallery - New stuff - Introductory sampler, best dreams, best art - On dreamwork - Books
Indexes: Subject - Author - Date - Names - Places - Art media/styles
Titles: A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - IJ - KL - M - NO - PQ - R - Sa-Sh - Si-Sz - T - UV - WXYZ
Email: email@example.com - Catalog of art, books, CDs - Behind the Curtain: FAQs, bio, site map - Kindred sites