last night i dreamed of china. for some reason i was brought to a big, uninhabited house that featured a multi-lingual cleaning lady and, more importantly, a run-down indoor botanical garden. in the right hand corner of that botanical garden, in a long, dry bathtub under the trees, a tiger moved around. in the left hand corner of that botanical garden, at the other end of that very same, loopy bathtub, lived a big white chicken. in my dream i was so fascinated, i pulled out my black unruled notebook and wrote a poem about the tiger and the chicken and how one day the tiger would probably eat it.