Strange Dream #12

The snake yawns wide and shows its venom glands.

He is a large scaly ES on the queen sized bed in room 314.

“Ssunlight is an abomination.” sighs the snake.

“Oh fuck off!” snaps the dog with a twitch of his tail. “The whole
day  is an abomination!”

“I know where the Garden iss.” says the snake.

“So you’ve said,’ replies the dog, “where is it, again?”

“In Manhattan, marked by the statue of the unknown bodybuilder.
Every Christmass true believerss ice skate to celebrate his musscles.”

“So, how come you don’t live there?”

“I got tossed by a blast of righteousness.  God did a shimmy-shake and
I landed here with Frank. God was jealouss: I got a piece of the woman.”

The dog’s tail twitches again.

“Howss about you?” asks the snake. “How did you get here?”

“I was a happy Lab, bounding and slobbering and bouncing when suddenly a Toyota Celica flattens me. Frank peeled me up and nailed me to this here wall.

Frank’s a good sort really, taking us in like this.”


(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017 all rights reserved


Strange Dream #09

I roam the slums of a jungle;

It is hot and I am always thirsty.

I drink from the

fountain marked


It’s magic quenches

my thirst.

At 3 AM savage


jabber and howl.

“Who do you love most,” asks God.

“Jayne Mansfield,” says Max.

“And why is that?” God is so
cleverly all-knowing.

“She’s dead.” Max replies.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017 All Rights Reserved




A puddle evaporates on a black tar

and a thousand puddles vanish before
we reach the boardwalk

where a toy store sells the inflatable
duck that goes flat in the water.

Arriving and departing seem endless:

we drop until the hand of some strong
god lifts us up and out of this moment



Image and poem (c) Rob Goldstein 2017

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Royal Philharmonic Chorus and Orchestra, Sir Thomas Beecham, cond.
RCA/BMG, recorded 1959
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His Empty Grave Fills Lives, Rob Goldstein 2017