i.
When I wake
It will be the first day
Of something new
That tiptoes along a telephone wire
Catching fragments
Of conversation
And writing them down
ii.
I was snoring
My leg was in a weird position
It remembered a joke
About a calf who mooed
But it was a leg calf
iii.
My teeth were grinding
My enemies
Into something
I could live with
iv.
The brownshirts chase me
Up the stairs
Soon I have
No more floors to escape to
I shove open my eyes
Reach over to the night table
Sip some water
The brownshirts screech to a halt
They mutter
Scratch their heads
(One head per brownshirt)
v.
I yawn while sleeping
My stomach growls while I eat
I write a poem while someone reads one of my poems
vi.
The digital clock
Beside the glass of water
On my night table
Throws a red 3:26
Across my still face
The spider dangling
Above my head
Double-checks its watches
vii.
I was sleeping
I was not a hummingbird
I was not a can opener
I was not a wisp of campfire smoke
My head lay on a pillow
And a dream snuck out of my skull
Curled itself into a ball
Went bouncing off the walls
And out the window
Into the dark sky
Into the cold night
Into the broken world
Where it fixed everything
Stuart Ross
1 January 2024
Over and out.
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