Everybody out of the Laundromat, I need to think!

of which the chapter is here excerpted, is a novel by Phil G Glenn

For most people, the transition into a hypnopompic state is difficult. In other words, it’s hard to wake up. For Virgil Blaine it was particularly difficult; on a number of occasions it had taken him two days. ‘It’s your body fighting off reality’ his Asian G.P. had said.
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number uno:

herewith fall lows a from a tongue waggin soul
    who measures about size nine
with pure motive to challenge your thinking as my goal
    and if drawn to language as this wordsmith, a byte size musing to dine

Upon this fair subcontinent
We live a life serene
There is no need for government
For cardamom is queen

With peddled pump the wind will fly
The more she stamped her boot
What better way there is to dry
The coriander fruit

A newborn baby's happy that
Lactation is induced
The content in it that is fat
The fenugreek will boost

The time I said I shared your crush
You made a sound that squeaks
The compliment that made you blush
Paprika on your cheeks

I thought the hole might be some kind of wound, the kind you wake up with, not knowing where it came from.

I thought the hole might be some new orifice, and that in it, soon, I might find a tongue or teeth or a build-up of earwax.

I thought the hole might be the empty spot where I am supposed to have a heart, even though the hole was in my knee.

here, his hands held iron tools
lit by a bright, dangling bulb
that swayed each time he passed.
this red-handled hammer once drove
thick nails into a long, blue plank
meant to hold thirty years worth of glass figurines.
time had added to his wife’s collection,
& once she asked, his fanged saw-blade
roared with purpose into the heart of a log.
within hours the new shelf gleamed on the wall,
the crowd of glass people glistening above the living room.