To turn the lamp on, let it capture the cunning back of the literary thief, to open the window so the birds learn their words instead of muddling them with chirps, to whistle to the deaf horse grazing in the windy backyard, see in its steamy nostrils the angelic clouds, to stash the householder's concern for this world in a trash bag & applaud its disappearance as if in an act at a carnival to forgive those more able to hold on to their daily pretensions even as they wake from dreams. O life, that settles into recesses of sorrow in the company of others, forgive this foolish human who chooses what he doesn't know of coming deceptions, then dances with them in a garage full of leaves.