Thursday, March 31, 2011

Friday Feedback, Dream Five

Lori is working on a book of dream poems
and illustrations.

This is my friend Lori Landau. She and I have been friends for a long (long) time.

Among many things, she is a columnist at Technorati (Lifestyle: Social Goodness) and shows and sells her jewelry and photography at the Open Center in NYC.

As teens we wrote endless poetry together, but she has continued to work on her craft and grow as a poet, while I have veered in other directions (she has also forked and veered, but has taken her poetry with her).

And, the truth is, few other's poems move me the way Lori's do.

So, when, I found a poem of hers -- Dream Five -- in my email box the other day like a small gift, I did what I always do: I coveted it.

Her poems make me want to eat them, drink them in. I have tried once or twice to suck them up through the computer screen but the glass intervenes.

So this morning, I did the next best thing. I sat down in front of my computer, turned my webcam on and read the words aloud, hoping by doing so, I could somehow send them into the universe in just the way I heard them in my head and have you understand.

I sent the vlog to Lori and asked if I might post my reading of Dream Five here and she said yes. First I will post the written version below.

Because it is Friday Feedback, and because it is my page, today I'm breaking our usual FF rules. I'm not asking for any constructive critique of Lori's poem (or of my reading of it, thank you very much) but rather just offer it up for your appreciation and enjoyment.

You may also offer up an excerpt or poem of your own in the comments as always and tell me your wish for feedback.

So, then, below is Lori's poem and below that the video of my reading.


Mixed media dream dog by the multi-faceted Lori Landau.
Dream Five

The plane has already taken off but I am unseated. The rows are full of travelers, settling in, gazing out windows, opening books, leaning back, eyes closed, to listen to iPods. I pass by them on my way to the doorway that separates coach from a part of the plane I never knew existed but enter anyway. The thrust of the plane overcomes the drag and the plane is pushed up through the bright air. I am in some type cargo space, stripped clean of carpet and seating and storage. The floor is whitewashed, with blackened steel planks, held down by rivets and antique fasteners. It is the type of place that in another time might have housed sturdy parts: landing gears, propellers, spare luggage bins, but as of now, it is empty, save for two seats that are anchored to raw metal and facing me from across a divide. They are slatted chairs like you’d find at a movie theater or a ballgame, attached at the legs and bolted to the floor with antique studs. No safety belts, just old-fashioned straps made to wind around knees and waists like a harness, clumsily buckled, like arms that are poised to grab hold. The whole thing feels like a throwback to the 40s, like some kind of old military jet, it hums with the purgatory air of a waiting room. By the force of motion, I know we’re ascending. The plane shifts then stabilizes, and I eye the two empty seats, deciding whether or not they will hold me to gravity, when I see that my two long-dead dogs, Annie and Gypsy, who are very much alive, are here, just a few steps from the sealed exit door. To see a dog in your dream symbolizes intuition, loyalty, protection, two must be doubly so. I know this as well as I know that I am dreaming. I am overjoyed to see them, but I am aware that in waking life they are still dead. I realize that they are here to tell me something I’ve forgotten, some important information that has slumbered long within me. I look out the windows of the plane to see what direction we are going in, to assess the likelihood of turbulance, to see if the plane is trailing some message, skywriting symbols that will decipher why I am here, and where I am going, and I see through the cold glass what has been there all along, the altitude of blue sky and everything beyond, and I am flying through it, carried like Dorothy hurtling toward Oz ,holding on by my feet, rooted to the unseen, to that which has come before and all that is yet to come, soaring toward the unknown without a safety net, flying far over the articulation of earth, away from the bent elbows of women squatting long over muddy water, over corrugated fences and bitter branches weighed down by leaves and birdsong, over the long slow trains that run past crumbling walls etched with graffiti, lifting over the hinge of the horizon, on my way to waking.


  1. This is achingly beautiful. Thanks for sharing it and reading it. Great idea to have both. And in one of those lovely moments of serendipity: your bird chirped (and I think it was the only chirp) right after you said "birdsong". Wow.

    Lori, bravo! Amazing voice.

  2. I was going to find a poem of mine to post, but I don't have anything that can compete with that. Not even close :P
    I super love this <3
    Fantastic job, Lori :)

  3. I love to see friends supporting one another's creativity. Beautiful art and poetry by the fabulous Lori, beautiful friendship being modeled for us all.

  4. I am deeply honored & inspired by you all

  5. Ellie, no competition. We all bring something different to the table (*reminds self, breathes*). ;)

    Hollye, I wanted to model Victoria's Secret underwear but, alas, I'm too old. Glad to model friendship instead. :)

  6. Ellie. yes. I'm with Gae too. er....I mean, it's not a competition. read my blog today's new post. it's all about connection and inspiration.

  7. Mawi &amp;&amp; FeweciaApril 1, 2011 at 2:43 PM

    Whooooa!!! Hi Gae!! It's Felecia (Fewecia) and Mali (Mawi) from Mrs. Andersen's class!!!

    Mawi says: I loved it! I really liked the images I got in my head from her writng and everything. That's how poetry should be in my opinion(:

    Fewecia: It was good:D

    PS: You look gawjuss dawlin!

  8. Felicia and Mali, nice, you guys are nearly as over caffeinated as I was earlier today. :)

    and i agree with everything you say about Lori's poem. I love her Dream poems. They are good stuff.

    xo Gae

  9. Hi Mali & Felicia- I just saw your comments. Just so you know, I started writing poetry when I was a teenager. I always write like I paint--choosing words like I choose colors and just put things together that "feel" good in my own interior visual world. In other words, Image is key. I hope you are both writing your own poetry.....xo Lori