calacas

Frida Kahlo's The Dream

Such strange dreams recently -- dead grandfathers, weird collections of peoples at parties, poet bloggers in the neighborhood, even a pregnancy dream! As Ashbery writes, "Melons bloomed in corners, shrimp blew away to be fecund elsewhere, next year...Somewhere darkness churns and answers are riveting, taking on a fresh look, a twist."

I think his poetry is infectious, perhaps invading my sleep.