There is a certain elegance in lines,
a grace that attracts the eyes
to that which is cloaked within the
echoic mystery of an ever clever guise.

All that is knit
from the fabric
of a most frantic                  
                                       ­     illusion in space,

borrows movement
                 from a riddle,                          
       poised in a mostly empty place.


It enchants the mind like a diorama
                                                         ­     hung
                                                       ­               upon the
                                                                ­                   fiber optic
                                                           ­                                         sky,
with pictures of the thoughts behind
           the artists telescopic ><><><><><><   eye.


Our      surreal      desires    are    drawn    boldly
  ­                                              from the breathing palette
                                        of a bright reality,
                                   with living loving strokes
                               that portray our very substantiality:

and never will it betray
          the flaws
           in neither an other worldly
symmetry,
                                               nor the immense complexity
of some alternate geometry.