i could think of
a hundred ways
to explain it in images
but nothing in words

maybe it’s
something like
that single straight hair
detached from a body
that keeps finding its way back
to my bed sheets

or maybe it’s
the weather this week
reminding us
that some things are
undeniable

a dream message

that tingle
at the base of your spine

right now

somewhere
in the world

a revolution
is happening.

and i allow you
the perfection
of doing
the only thing
you know how

the tyranny of language
is the moment
it doesn’t exist

and everything
i’ve told you
you already know.

endless nights of dreaming
in a foreign language

and the translations were
becoming disturbing-

a dream logic
stripped of its familiar
syntax

listening to the dead tones
of old lovers

always with words
which have all been
heard before.