Aholaah Arzah·PoetryDear DissolutionShareThe thin glass of the old window is vibrating with wing flutter from the snarled nest of Christmas trimming and dry weed wedged above the frame.Dutiful comings and goings are transmitting these small shock waves. Mornings I return to the wadded tangles of my fears lit by the same light.It seems as though there ought to be window that opens on, now, the doves their earnest interrogations. Other birds their mad warbling and plaintive whistles usher in anxiety.Sleep is where I fabricate the fables that emerge in furtive scrapology. Perhaps it is unreasonable to expect remedy their wispy tissues have only random fears and strayincidents to work with, a necessarily short attention span. I never wake to the same water. Every morning its aspect alters. I have a longing for vast open sea, the sky full ofbrilliant stars, scenes from one or more movie memories. Whale sharks and bio-luminescent creatures making their lovely arabesques beneath my frail raft of bone,in the cool syrup of shared chemical composition. What a shame my infinite nature is only molecular. There are so many others I would with this consciousness be.The morning smells like seagull shit and fried eggs. The morning smells like cedar chips and clove. The morning smells like sea brine and wild roses.