“Indefinite Divisibility” (1942) by Yves Tanguy
T.S. Eliot said,
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium
I know–exactly–what he means
Tragedy lurks in the midnight deeps
It hides, free from consciousness
It hides, outside memory
A catastrophic tick that has no echo
Fleeting images and emotional residue
all amble home in the morning
Tiger Riding for Beginners 
Some dreams are hard to escape. Realities too, as I listen to a replay of Trump’s speech in the other room, shrill cheers and mob boos. It makes me want to curl up and sleep for the next four years. (Other than spurts of recurring head-on crashes, my dreams are not overly vivid or demanding. A mixed blessing, methinks.)
Wishing you sleep less catastrophic and terrifying.
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