TRANSCRIPT I dreamed about you the other night. I remember the sky being unusually clear, and the moon catching that frozen sparkle all the way down the street. The sense was elusive, My hair comes unpinnedIt smells of burnt rubberand angel food cake something of home in the air, if only a trace of it Some morphine soaked sheets, some hot shower floor to keep the locusts say it bestin whirring, wheeling whines. the scene overcome by sunlight striking ancient limestone and reflecting off of the puddles on the awnings and creating halos familiar and foreign, becoming again so high. Oh, so high. the memories are shiftedmorphing thoughts into a cast\ Dear God: I am writing to thank you for the gift of love… My love crosses boundariesexpectations and spectrums but it’s sure hard to fillthe space where your heart is. I rub you into my skinall over, like lotion-- creating a new imagerevealingwhat different forms can she take The mixture was unstable being in such proximity to each other for such long amounts of time I just hate that loving youMeans rejecting a part of myself I believed to know at dusk has evaporated by dawn. Now each cockcrow's daylightSprains the blue fog which shrouds my head. losingtime to spaceand findingsome slanted rhythmscape. Time, as a humanly static function, gives us a sense of purpose, a scale for things to depend upon,it must not be manipulated by squeezing out its structures, but by noticing the absences and noting the importance of the sensational void. I can’t remember the dream now.