A Stoop is Close to a Fall
I
She was never his hawk
only her own
shredding talons
spreading wings
in down swirling push
could not pull her free
To bend the air Under
and bear
The weight of death
II
She drifted, stretching over
the ragged canyons between sounds
Into the next headlong dive
Wings drawn back
She fell hard
against the world.
III
She will not be buried
Rising,
From the center of bright skies
she sees every movement precisely
The rabbit under sagebrush
Quivering.
Her Dark Furnishings
On a naked hill
Above a shamble of bone built huts
She plays at chores
in a well-lit palace
open to the dim world
rearranging her dark-polished furnishings
in patterns of arabesque logic
Everyone looks up from
mud scrabbled ruts
into the bright vision of order
“Oooh, coffee table tea party
on the veranda my dear
Now that’s the way to live!”
A Woman of the River Ocean
raising dusty billows in airy water
I am feeling with delicate fingers
in the fine white sand
among the eel grass
at the bottom of the river ocean
for a part of me I did not lose
a moon-luminous woman,
about 40 years old
black hair shining
transpiring her life
a doll dressed in red
on a shelf
Maybe a secretary or a nurse
or assistant librarian
now she moves
in a tentative dance
everyone is bustling ’round
she moves about them
without disturbing
the waters
My fingers are searching
for her symbol
her voice.
She is the one who will
speak for me
when I pull her from the weeds
I ache for breath
She gasps to life
on the surface
Chiaroscura
Splash of angel light
her face pushed forward
body leaning close
breathing deep magnetic
corruption
in through open nostrils.
The angled spirit congealed
bloody on her pillow
one arm raised flame
against the illusion of
obsidian labyrinth working
Through stretch and fold
distortion spread reflected
over transparencies
pile one on the other until
seeming solid prison
Life
Myriad Ways 
“A Woman of the River Ocean” is sublime; the symbolic imagery within it expresses this dream-realm beautifully…
Thanks. I had forgotten that one. Now it is like a post card from my past dreams from where it is vacationing just outside of my memory.