New Year’s Transformers
of body, the strange apparatus
from air. It resembles a mouth,
really a mouth, but there are hands
together a summer cloud
a sky of frayed ends.
really hands, not a sky, either.
carried in the air weigh nothing.
you can touch
a cosmos of memories.
is not here. Now is not
can hear you talking,
you only mouth the words:
can pick up anything
bear it along
up, and away: all those messages from elsewhere
arriving and only passing through.
Interpretation of Dreams, for My Daughter
my dreams sometimes I relive the thrilling first
of a small, sated innocent. No howling,
primal twilight. No monstrous, beating
rattling the crib.
is it me?) devours every
I am clueless,
deaf, screaming like a fish.
mothering is only a question
which chunk is eating whom?
I might squirt
sheets. I might chant crone’s wisdom. Or mumble a prayer
the scary future. But I don’t
just dream. Some dreams
also prayers. The best ones recall
naked grin, the bare brine tongue
a slumbering angel.