I swim toward a room.

The door is open, yet dark.

Someone is there, hidden.

I shout out vaguely

like a toothless dog

growling at shadow.


In this dream, I am other;

not the dream where I see

myself as some other:

I’m a mobius strip

made of my flesh

rendered to a game

where dice clack quietly

into the thinning air.

(December 31, 2019)

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