blogging before the glasses

my vision's going
and i rarely get the day right
i had another dream of you
but the first in a while.


this time there were happy visions
which made the unreachable
impossible to bear
when i woke i cherished them
then got up in the cold air and pissed.
when i came back to the warm
comforter, you weren't there
so i wept a bit, went back
to dreamless sleep.


this morning is a cataract, filmy
gause and the sound of beating machinery
saying get out in the day, make it count.
writing is not considered in that equation
it sits beneath gluons, resides in neutrino guts.

the rattle travels from one side of the window
to the other. a train moving the seams of the trailor
apart, divides at the clefts. finally
the laundry ceases. i can think again.

but do i want to? sue me for the things
i can't do, lack of will in the infinite canyon
a sunset of walls waiting for the midday eye
to take notice. a chronicle of crumbling.

i have to clean out my car. there will be dancing
tonight, outdoors in the cold under a barely there moon.
maybe the stars will poke thru.






*



i thought it was time to be gone
but your face keeps seeping
like sugar ants, pixellated around
a microscopic mound.


no one watches tv
on saturday morning, that's the time
for projects and shopping. later when the football
game is on, comes some rest.


i want it to be time to be
gone, a dull effluvium
dissipating, trace chemicals
bonding to earth. done, this
vision of never was. but there's nothing
i can burn, no candle named "tried".
so it calls me from a future i can't tame
unless i refuse to play the game.


in dreams, as in life, desires piece
themselves together, cell arrangement
makes its own room in the spacetime allowed.
how vast, the universe in my sleep.