I dreamt I was slowing
And the reaper,
You know, the grim one,
Was gaining,
And I would be harvested
Before I held the new edition
Of our book,
Caressed the artful cover,
Saddened by my fate.

But then I woke
And understood!
The volumes hadn’t come
Because every single one
Had already been sold
To bookstores
At every compass point—
I, gladdened by success.

Like that drunk Li Po,
I wondered which vision
Was the insight,
Which the dream?
(8/22/14)