me: i read the Julie Greicius essay last night
instead of Bukowski
and I wept
and turned my face to the wall
so that my tears
would be mine
alone
and I had a dream
me: in this dream
i kept trying to push
a great sadness out of my body
and my body would clench
to both push
and hold on
me: and I dreamed a poem
that dissolved
just before I surfaced
to the buzzing of an alarm
and the soft static of the shower
and i lay there
with my soul half leaning out of me
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