i the soul magnifies god as i pour water on the ground in the year of the wolf one two three four moon circle moon the surface the surface of everything i know is a dream-- i dream that my grandfather is healthy again, living alone on a gra**y mountain in a tiny shack with an outhouse and hot springs where he swims everyday he doesn't have any friends but he keeps journals and waters flowers in pots on a small windowsill a black streak across the sky like a question and his voice cracks and the plants depend on balance in different forms when i rub a red petal with my thumb and forefinger my grandfather quietly scolds me holding a pen his hand cured of parkinsons he has learned to be merciful [he has learned to live delicately, walking among flowers] the surface the surface of everything i know is a dream so i write my poem with shaking hands i try to turn my pen into swords spinning globes in a room walking in a straight line aligned with the moon and a broken sidewalk necklace monsters in sewers switchblade rain and tears ii i have not learned to manipulate sound [teach me] i do my best a mental photograph smile i am flooded with caterwaul [touch me] please love me i am trying not to get loved the light inside the eyes is a firewall of crystals crystals crystals crystals on a concrete line