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.