I have a dream the night is giving us anything but language.
my mother says —- —- — and my partner says – — ——.
when I’m unable to tell them I don’t understand I say – —— –.
when I wake, tired, I go for a drive. there are a few children
bicycling. a house with great white antlers where a basketball goal should be.
there is a friend I haven’t spoken to in nearly a year,
not for lack of love, but notknowinghowness. I don’t call him.
my globus comes and grows. my fear perches there, warbles.
I try to catch it, but the sound goes out,
the way all restless things come to go out.
There are no cars out, so I stop at the yield
for maybe minutes. Enough time for it to rain and quit raining
or start raining.