“The mind of which we are unaware is aware of us.” R.D. Laing The rising sun not beet, or blood, but sea-rose red. I amplified my heartbeat one thousand times, the animals at first confused then decided I was another thunder being. While talking directly to god my attention waxed and waned. I have a lot on my mind. I worked out to make myself as strong as water. After all these years of holding the world together I let it roll down the hill into the river. One tree leads to another, walking on this undescribed earth. I have dreamed myself back to where I already am. On a cold day bear, coyote, cranes. On a rainy night a wolf with yellow eyes. On a windy day eleven kestrels looking down at me. On a hot afternoon the ravens floated over where I sunk myself in the river. Way out there in unknown country I walked at night to scare myself. Who is the other, the secret sharer who directs the hand that twists the heart, the voice calling out to me between feather and stone the hour before dawn? Somehow I have turned into an old brown man in a green coat. Having fulfilled my obligations my heart moves lightly to this downward dance.