Mushrooms, Splinters, and Thorns

Shrimp Dancing

Until a few years ago, in factories where dried shrimp were being prepared, "shrimp dancers" were hired to tramp on the shells with special shoes.

Shrimp dancing on dreams
to crack open their shells,
those dreams birthed in me,
lucid, unspoiled, untouched, undeveloped,
whether in sync with the earth or otherworldly,
I watch my dreams,
I dance my dreams,
as if wanting to get away
without a passport,
in an attempt to weed out
the ghosts of want and illusion,
to the sound of my last bed’s embracing sheets
as if multihued autumn leaves rustling
in winter’s fluttering shade.