On dreaming
I walk across the wide array of teeming arrow barns. A hundred
teeming prefab barns with silver hoop-house roofs. Inside, a
hundred-thousand horses, decommissioned for the evening of
their gleaming, crib their crooked teeth against their stalls. And
then, a docent wind, and I’m standing in the centriole. Error
garden. Its treasure guarded by a foal.
I sleep like sleep is / water. Sleeping lugged around / in steel
canteens.
