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


Felique Dupré in the Haunted World: Whose Hell is This?

Persephone plods relentlessly towards Hell.

Great drifts of snow form a tunnel along Union Turnpike.

Everything is grey: grey snow from a grey sky on grey

Persephone rolls her eyes at the writer; perseveration of
thought is the sign of an overwrought mind.

Yet, she does consider the landscape grey

Illustration of Persephone made from a photograph of an avatar
Union Turnpike

Alla Saints an’ Mother Theresa coul’na saved me!” laughs Hades
with a puff on his cigar.

He’s just told the story of how, as a young Catholic converting a Jew in Switzerland, he was chased by a pack of Protestant dogs.

“My twisted sister!” Persephone hikes her skirt; that story never fails to impress.

Hades,” she says, “about Felique…”

“I don’t have your precious Felique!”

Nevertheless, she persisted: “But you must!”

Hades relaxes and chuckles affectionately: “Of course I must. She’s in the Garden playing with dolls. She’d love to see you.”

Persephone is confused: “What was that business with the hag in the mirror?”

“You know how the writer likes special effects.”

“And Felique…?”

“She’s a little girl named Trina.”

“I see…and, whose Hell is this?

“Cocteau’s, do you like it?”

Surrealist photograph of virtual reality avatars to represent Persephone and Lucifer entering the Garden
Persephone and Lucifer enter the Garden

Persephone examines one of Lucifer’s paintings and smiles: “Life is like a skyscraper on quicksand.”

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Quicksand or Time

kneel into


as thick as


or time

as short as


the mind goes


and still soft


are the fashion

is the suck-off

are the



more me

of me

on the street





where the



fails, extending


to the


to the


of a sleeping

bag whose

mind has

snapped —

onto mine.


(c) Rob Goldstein 2014-2017


…of wisteria and the scent of honeysuckle

Her  death leaves
us with

hidden memories

of captured fireflies,

of wisteria and

the scent of


of taffy pulls
pink flamingos,

of Christmas and

the Wizard of Oz,

of swallowed


and conflicting


Image and text Rob Goldstein (c) 2017