The next two poems are a little more indoor.
They're about sleep or rather the first is more about sleep,
and the second about waking or whatever you
want to call it in this case.
"Sleep."
We march into our eyes, teaching our hands
to believe the wounds of darkness.
But they multiply without us, faces of carbon and led,
they have decided to return their red bandages.
The afterbirth of sudden dreams, waits
on the stairs of the breath, we must go on
without any bitterness.
Then a new land, our eyes will study the anatomy of tears.
We will wear our mortality loosely,
like the dew, resolved in a silence,
made of all the roads we never walked.