Will soft look upon a glowing square.
           My face.
I do similar, an electric mist passes and glows.
I alone perceive radiance.
           The boy is in the syrupy dark.
A flower growing midway through the sidewalk.
           Green tipped with yellow.
           Made of stronger stuff than stars.


His Hands were My Hands (in the glowing square.)
            But My designs are not His desighns.
            

Fall into me! My soul is vast.
           And I am still an ocean of contradictions.
My life, My stability,  
           Surf high on waves of contradiction.


            I'm tired of metaphor.
            I think I'll just lay down.
and Will myself to dream the same dream again.