Cibola 3

This entry is part 3 of 119 in the series Cibola

I’m serializing my book-length poem. See Section 1 for details.

Beginnings (cont’d)

I awake in the dark and shake free
of sheets & blankets, of down-filled
quilt. The rituals of waking–
the long, hot shower, the coffee–give
my mind the chance to keep drifting,
let memory make what it will
of the contours of sleep.
Oddest of all are the dreams in which
one awakes, forgetting all rituals.
And it seems normal to go out naked,
for instance, in the middle of winter.
The snow’s alive, remember?
It ripples, blue flames slip
through the trees like fish.
I feel fur sprouting all along my spine.

Series Navigation← Cibola 2Cibola 4 →
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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave's writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the "share alike" provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

2 Comments


  1. I love this…”the snow’s alive, remember?” We have a rare settled-in snow here, and the roads are impassable. This helped me feel into the breath of the snow and ice more fully. I love what I’ve read of this series thus far, by the way.

    Reply

    1. Cool. Thanks for commenting. I am, as you might have gathered from my remarks on Facebook, quite thoroughly sick of Cibola, but I do realize it’s got a lot of good lines.

      I’m looking forward to your snow photos!

      Reply

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