[the poet tries to convince herself she’s not time traveling in her sleep]

there is no time dilation in dreams. if that breaks your heart, i’m sorry. (LaBerge, 1986)./ mood ring in the shape of a man gives me a gun./ a clock watching time does weird things. the other clock (Einstein, 1907)./ outside they’re celebrating moonlessness, and i don’t know enough about time travel. i do know one thing about time travel: we’re way too big, man. we gotta get smaller. there would be a door. maybe even a bunch of doors. but i do mean small. god of dust dreams of dust. moteish./ savage garden of the mind… but the body!... the mind…? the body…? (Descartes, ?)./ i don’t even drive this car. i have lightning in a bottle. spaced out techno jelly. a brain. anyway, god is not me and i am not my body. two clowns, one car. no steering wheel./ my friends, let us think, again, about God. (Leibniz, 1714.)/ clowns? no, clocks. and how big

really, can the mind be?

[diptychs]

i
deer headed
hand puppet
licks
a bellybutton

ii
the bear takes
a picture of
me sleeping
with my thumb
in my mouth
and shares it
with his friends

-

i
when did you stop saying
you
in your poems
when
did you start

ii
if it seems like i was gone it’s because i was
not from the field
not from the pilot
neither of which
i thought were real

-

i
god says
go with grace
but i haven’t
put my makeup
on

ii
the universe
drops her joke
like a skirt

[untitled]

god
i was so
art to the
nth degree

so neon

starved
but so

able to hunt.

chewtoy
bubblegum

for some
chosen

tooth
mouth
tongue.

i’m here from the future to say nothing has changed.

[untitled]

i ride the thigh of a
tinman

all slow like there is
music

but there's not the sun

**** yellow on this
cracked

earth

-

the lion is

fierce
in its fantasy. we

have found
an excess of corn

and i
am an artist

-

we have the same shoe size

me
and that pigtailed girl  same

sort
of freak storm

do you think she looks sad

-

won't write about the scare
crow

think i took something from
him