when we wake, we forget what we have dreamed.

Some things make the most sense on a bleary morning,
their shadows dark and clear against the fog,
that bleakness opens up wide
as the world, as a wounded ghost.

There will be no turning back from this routine of sleep:
it is there, the logic that isn't, the fabric of the world,
with no seams to rip at, no peepholes.

when you wake, you will claw against sheets
and a sliver of time
- like a dead and breathing nose -
pokes though.
The world is a painting over a painting over
something ancient and pulsing, trapped
under the artists' dream.

Every morning you will slow, lean on the stearing wheel,
peer into the fog rising from the lake, but see nothing

and later not remember just why you had stopped.

some things=one word, somethings.

Some parts of this poem I liked, for example:

The world is a painting over a painting over
something ancient and pulsing, trapped
under the artists' dream.

Every morning you will slow, lean on the [s]stearing[/s] steering wheel,
peer into the fog rising from the lake, but see nothing

and later not remember just why you had stopped.

But...it lacked a lot. Like in that second stanza I listed above, the word "slow" throws me off. And the whole beginning of the poem seems to try to go somewhere, but fails. What were you trying to write about? I felt like I couldn't hold onto the idea, the images, strongly enough.

"dead and breathing" threw me off, and so I didn't like it, because the two words are contradicting themselves.

Don't get me wrong, I liked it, but I think it needs to be cleaned up, and put back together with a better structure. Your stanzas were kind of random. I think if you "tore it down and rebuilt it" it'll come out better, and if you thought about what your main idea in the poem was. It just needs to be repieced, and thought about, is all.

bonne chance!

There were a lot of commas, which distracted me a bit. I like the placement of words, but unlike the dream/painting described, there don't seem to be many layers here.

Harsh crit? No prob! Here we go, stanza by stanza. ^_^

Some things make the most sense on a bleary morning,
their shadows dark and clear against the fog,
that bleakness opens up wide
as the world, as a wounded ghost.

...I struggled a lot with the punctuation in this stanza. First I thought the first line needed something more dramatic, but that threw the rest of the stanza into a tizzy--but I think I've finally come up with something. Also, some of the phrasing was a little clumsy, so I've offered some suggested changes; use what you like or ignore it all, it's up to you. ^_^

Some things make more sense on a bleary morning,
their shadows dark and clear, silhouettes against the fog;
that bleakness opens up wide as the world,
wide as a wounded ghost.

About the changes:

Line 1: "the most" was a little clumsy; it feels cleaner, clearer with one less syllable.
Line 2: I added "silhouettes" because, whether or not you change the first line, the rhythm of the original Line 2 completely destroyed the flow you started in Line 1. Substitute any extra two or three syllables you want; just a suggestion. Also, the semicolon adds a needed division between the first and second halves of the stanza.

There will be no turning back from this routine of sleep:
it is there, the logic that isn't, the fabric of the world,
with no seams to rip at, no peepholes.

Now that's more like it. Good rhythm; perfect balance in the punctuation; and the images are, if somewhat simple and not overly unique, expressed in a very clear, concise, vivid manner. I love this stanza, especially the first line.

when you wake, you will claw against sheets
and a sliver of time
- like a dead and breathing nose -
pokes though.
The world is a painting over a painting over
something ancient and pulsing, trapped
under the artists' dream.

Mmm... the line breaks are making my editor's brain itch. Some suggestions, if I may?

when you wake, you will claw the sheets
and a sliver of time - like a dead and breathing nose -
pokes through. the world is a painting over a painting
over something ancient and pulsing, trapped
beneath the artist's dream.

Now, re: the suggested changes;

Line 1: One syllable ("the") flows better than two syllables ("against"); and if someone's clawing, it's pretty obvious in the connotations of the verb that it's against something.
Line 2: Why break up these two lines? Keep the flow going! Don't pay attention to how the poem looks; that's secondary, unless you're going for a form poem. Listen to how the lines work together.
Line 3: Flow, again. ^_~
Line 4: Just moved the "over" down a line, for flow's sake.
Line 5: Changed "under" to "beneath"; it just seemed to fit the style of the poem better, but as it's the same amount of syllables it's really up to you.

Every morning you will slow, lean on the stearing wheel,
peer into the fog rising from the lake, but see nothing

Stearing should be steering. ^_~ Otherwise: I adore this. Seriously. OMG. *Snuggles imagery.* This is truly a master-crafted little stanza you have here, B.

and later not remember just why you had stopped.

I'm ambivalent about the "had," but it works. Whether you leave it in or take it out is up to you.

If you have any questions, feel free to PM me. ^_^

The beginning is excellent. I like the fog metaphore...but I hated the last two lines of stanza one! They seemed so passe, and incredibly unrhymthic, especially "as a wounded ghost" (which made no sense to me). Change it! Add something image-wise! And how does "the world" open up like bleakness?...

"when you wake, you will claw against sheets
and a sliver of time"
This seems very symbollic and intellectual, but I did not understand. Can you please elaborate on the meaning of the sheets in the poem, what they mean? Also, I personally think you should make the second line "sheets........as silver as time".

"pokes though"
I think it should be "poking through".

"artists' dream"
Change the word dream into "fantasy" or "hallucination", something else.

The second half was good....but completely separate from your first half. I am trying to make sense of this poem and find what it means, but this is apparently a sunny afternoon, not a bleay morning, so...(Just kidding.) But seriously--find some way to connect the two halves and tell us the message through some kind of symbol or something.

I like this; the only part I am concerned about is the theme (concern=worry for something you care for. )

PM me if you have any questions!

L2 of S2 is a bit confusing.

I'm also not sure S1 ties into the end.

However, the last line is a superb finish! I feel so...satisfied... I love this D: A great poem, but a little clearing up would do nicely. Well done once more.

-Evang.