Where I've been and
where I'm going—
wish I could send myself
letters from either.
I'd write—
how the world gets so packed
full of revelations,
they're easy to ignore.
And the only way
to grasp the situation
is to go to sleep
and dream up a different one.
And even the crystalline sky
is not a such a fixed idea,
yet no one ever thinks
to doubt it.
So many floozy moments half-
congeal; like
ice cubes melting, turning cloudy,
swizzling around in some tiffany glass,
And it's through repeated daily use
that transparent symbols like that
become stained—with truth, or
with expectation.
