I wake and laugh. Unborn trees in the yard. Laugh and laugh. Gallop through my nervous system. Certain stars were in my dream. When I talk, words like coffee are automatic, but after-dreams are dancing still. They’ll rise, quietly into the shadow sky. The coffee is good. “Time,” I think, “to open a window.”
There are so many minutes for which no proper names exist. Deep in the night I carved my name on a seed. Now I’ve awakened outside the broken temple.
Planet of the Blind 