It’s the rip tide,
the grain of a strong gale
one ridge of a rugged universe.
Feet leave no prints
and vision is without sight, and yet
when most I wink, then do
mine eyes best see the unknown.
As we commit our bodies,
we become absorbed.

Multiple dimensions wait for us.
There might be a world where day
and night coexist.
Beside an ornamental flower,
a tree stretches out its hideous branch.
The perfectly square mirror
reveals a twisted scene.
In that dream
I face a completely different me.
Thy fair imperfect shade through
heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay,
and when we wake at this tunnel’s end
what vision awaits?