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.