Vance Dubberly

Walking from window to window watching water reform itself. From clouds to roof into pools and streams to gutters streaming off the house. Descent, separation, droplets, globules, dispersal patterns becoming splatter patterns in little lakes and rivers, the thin planes of water on the porch. Rings fan out as water arrives, plunges, and shatters on concrete. At the center of each ring a catastrophe, violence, disillusion as fragments repel upward arching and again descend. They arrive a second time onto the water plane though calmly this time - assimilating, giving off only a shimmering ripple of light as droplet becomes pool.

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A hole in the sky. Blue, brilliant, surrounded by clouds irradiated by sun. All I see is silver lining. I sit at the table before a window gazing out. The cloud layer closest to me races by. A freight train, a circus train carrying elephants, lions, and phantasma. Look! Here comes the unicorn, giraffe, Icarus, and Chimera. A dancing seal, a racing tortious, and Allen’s beloved Hippogryph race by. The hippogryph? I’ve no idea what it looks like or what it is but I can feel it up there joyous and real as anything can be.

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Humming Bird

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I decide to go to my new home. Rainbow. I step onto the porch and awe at the holographic ribbon of color which embraces the colosseum of monzogranite which is Gamma Gulch.

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I am packed and leaving, traveling down the road-river created by tires, transformed by rain. The path forks and crests and rejoins itself. At the apex of the divergence, at the top of a hill a second rainbow - this time massive and grand, miles from end to end - begins it’s formation. As I drive on, as the road converges, the colors brighten, saturate, and the ephemeral becomes corporeal. The road is slow and soft. I flow with the streams that were once path - once hard and straight. The rainbow moves with me, accompanying me. I know it is illusion, I know the principles involved, I can tell you how light prisms through mist. I am overwhelmed. Water rises in me. Convulsion. Sobs. Streams and the movement of water - movement with water - through water - light. The road ends. The streaming desert path meets pavement. I stop at the crossing and breath. The path back to civilization begins here, this chapter of my life ends here. To the right the sun is setting amidst the clouds, cleansing the sky with darkness so that another day can begin anew. To the left the ribbon of light descends, the pavement rises, they merge into a continuos line. I choose the way of convergence. And I drive.