This poem I wrote on whippets

I felt heaven on the crossroads of reality and imaginary

No longer my S.O.S

Something like tasting your own tongue with a mixture of nighttime spirits

Do you believe our eyes know all there is to see?

My tree of life grows in both directions

When children dance on roots

Feel no sense of direction

Dinner at daytime

my spirit knows no reflection

Anointing feet like Mary and

Revelations of deflection