Today, I dreamed of pulling leaves from evergreen trees;
of plowing a field of whale skin soup;
of interrupting the mute guy standing, alone, outside the Mission;
of dancing naked in front of the mirror in my Sunday best;
of swallowing whole the corner of my toast;
of shouting quietly up the stairs to my wife in the basement;
of turning around so I can keep going straight ahead;
of loving when my hating heart says otherwise;
of singing when my silent voice denies these notes;
of releasing myself to become heaven’s captive.
The world makes sense through other eyes.