The grass / brims like tears, striving / to reach the brightest up at night. / How great it is in its fullest creativity, / sprouting with magic movements.

What I remember with one eye: the severe pain already forgotten, a doctor’s creased scrubs, five tiny cracks on white walls, my mother holding me in her

Will you pass me that pair of fairy wings? I do need themfor my nightly wandering; I was put in bed under the coverswhile the