Tonight you are watching the whales migrate southward through the sky, trailing Summer behind them. Somewhere north of you, the leaves are already turning red and gold like tropical fish. Mary Jane’s Last Dance plays out across the landscape, surrounding you, covering you. You put down your drink, take up a diver’s position, launch yourself upward and paddle with your flippers. A dolphin twirls around you, seems to smile. You vaguely recall the coming Winter and how something will be taken from you, but the ocean-sky takes the worry and disperses it among schools of tiny sparkles. For now you float, and you are whole.
JeFF Stumpo is a survivor of psychosis and PTSD, husband to a PhD chemist, father to an amazing trans child, author of five chapbooks of poetry and a spoken word album, and his work has recently won or been shortlisted for prizes from Subnivean, Cutthroat, and The Plaza Prizes. These selections come from a manuscript of prose poems representing actual dreams and nightmares he's had, as well as the hopes and fears of people he cares about rendered into dreamscapes.