i wear my glasses to bed, sleeping still,
to see my dreams more clearly.
to define the leaf from the twig
at distance, and learn in multiple ways
the differences between them.
to rewrite signs and tangled lines, unmanaged
by the view-
seen through eyes, the shapes comprised of
reprimand, broken glasses
and the saltless tears of forgotten dreams.
but in the sake of dreaming awake, i find
the stories enduring,
like a fire burning tricks
like a sandbox shitting on babies
like an onion buried yet blooming
like hell, but in Miami in December.