August 2, 2016

Outflow of poems, my summer abundance.
   
Spectacular dreams, long, vivid, narrative, often germane to my waking situation. I was going to debate a famous rabbi on the nature of God. The synagogue seemed to be made out of snow. I asked for him to wait a moment, as I had to go to the bathroom before we began. I had to cross a plane of snow to get to the bathroom. Of course, I REALLY had to go to the bathroom, and this was my body’s intrusion upon the dream, so what the rabbi and I would say about God remains unspoken.