Dragoman

Another Poetry Collage By Katherine Coogan

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In art and dream may you proceed with abandon. In life may you proceed with balance and stealth.

~patti smith

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i used to feel safe here

i would sleep and dream

this space had a peace

a type of refuge

now i enter

i dont recognize my surroundings

i feel i have been gone for too long

things are familar yet changed

i feel vunerable

i feel defensive

you come into view

i feel my body

building an invisible

forcefeild

if i am just courageous enough

maybe my heart can

survive

the tiny arrows

your mouth creates

as you speak my name

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wandered the halls at nighttime

my body burned, my legs ached

but you never came to bed

you just left me there awake

you kept me wanting wanting wanting

like the wanting in the movies and the hymns

i want the pharaohs, but theres only men

i want the pharaohs, but theres only men

you said i was your blue, blue baby

and you were right

~neko case

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sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame..................

~ jane eyre c. bronte

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that is why we need to travel. if we don't offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull. our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder. our eyes don't list to the horizon; our ears don't hear the sounds around us. the edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. we wake up one day and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days. don't let yourselves become one of these people. the fear of the uknown and the lure of the comfortable will conspire to keep you from taking the chances the traveler has to make. but if you take them you will never regret your choice.

~ kent nerburn

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is that i noticed a woman reading

in a chair not far from mine.

silver-haired, calm, she stirred a hunger

hard for me to define.

perhaps because she doesn't seem lonely.

and what i loved was this:

the way, when dusk had darkened her pages,

as if expecting a kiss,

she closed her eyes and threw her head back,

book open in her lap.

perhaps she was thinking about her story,

or the fall air, or a nap.

bryant park at dusk

~ geoffery brock

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