| An Eye in Reverse eyes realigned through one-eighty rebears me into the negative imprint of all that is known to fly-pocked Trompe l'oeil life Where, vase-mounted, time passes within a single frame. Breathing in the new sky - a sky a deep soft colour alien to his familiar pale relative. Coarse as tobacco rich as cold streams velvety as the mole who struggles to fly in the earthen sky: in another word - 'silk zeppelin' Beetles flutter as birds do in their 'below' Chirupping by black spines of legs. Here long worms traverse the loam, solid sliding rain drops, blind as the 'sky' swallowing their passage 'down'. A sky which only feels heat-up and cold-down for dawn and dusk. And all that exists below its silent majesty swings softly in inconstant gases, yearning with a hopeless stretch to reach off... ...and out to the cosmos ...before coming back to ground and home in the long midnighted 'sky' where fluid passes unseen ~lev | 
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