string thirteen

Fish hide in the earth
lurk the roots
of great trees


My skeleton
thinks about you
still, in sleep


(nothing    but
a doorknob
but    nothing)


I stare into
a gutted STAPLES
and its dark consoles






The Terror of Waking Up

I like the way language always feels like.
It is getting somewhere. It feels
like waking up. Getting lighter. The smack of dawn.
Against your back.

The dream that ends when you wake up.
Is not insignificant. Think.
It is like an airplane
going down. Because you woke up.
All those unreal people you were.
Just dreaming.

They are suddenly on a plane going down
because you have to go to work.

You senseless monster, go back to sleep.

Save them.

Rescue their unreality!

Your boss will understand.