pasta dreams

30 Apr

the lady wakes up, dismounts the bed
hair all matted,
face creased with dry earth slits.
her dreams revealed in spoken gushes;
a beacon of light nothing but a pin in her eyes,
but we gather round.

she says she was working in a hospital,
scraping human shit from fancy plates.
“freeing myself from ego maniacs” is her daylight freud

we the slumber party laugh a chain gang,
wondering about last night’s lasagna party
and all those plates painted hard and crusty with red ragu;
soon to be greeting us in the kitchen
all us earthmates knowing hot water be the ticket.


3 Responses to “pasta dreams”

  1. kvennarad May 1, 2014 at 4:48 am #

    I know faces/mornings/plates like this.

  2. eusebiusclay May 3, 2014 at 5:06 am #

    I’m tempted to use psychoanalysis to analyse this poem, but I have resisted the temptation. There is something to be said about freudian slips, but was Freud a fraud?

    • steve May 3, 2014 at 10:21 am #

      i don’t know much about freud other than his obsession over sex as the primary instinct. It was a bit of a bummer when he was hanging out with Mr. Jung and Jung saw the curtain moving or something like that and Freud refused to believe it like he refused to believe in that collective unconscious, but freud was before Jung so Jung had the advantage of new ideas and the world getting smaller and what not, but I would have to say that ideally, a patient changes their thinking rather than having to dissect their past. I think that’s one of the differences between freudian analysis and cognitive psychology.

      But I don’t know. If someone gave me gift certificates to a Freudian psychiatrist, I would definitely take advantage of the opportunity. Maybe we’d smoke some opium or was it cocaine Freud dipped into? Either way, I’d welcome the buzz.

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