color-in-dreams
pomegranate thoughts drip from
my mouth to the ears of a provolone-ly
moon-faced man with gaping
wisdom-tooth-sized-cavities
(with roots deep in impracticalities)
like the inevitable nature of sleep,
and dreams. my pillow sours, a flushed
cheek turns cool wondering at the thing
(the monster lurking near the drinking
glass) a tinge of a dream that singed a lash
as it fluttered fully open…
