DIMENSIONS. To think of you Is not to think of you Tonight. A single point diverges Into dimensions of horizon Subterranean reasons within Causing rippled symptoms. Singular diversions Of narcissus nihilty A muted presence Perhaps will be sufficient For directing love into some clarity. A life perhaps you loose Or control over its luminosity An entry into cessation A heart into intellectual sterility. A few returned to the sea To pick rock or the rose Under scorpioned rough shades Some deadly tumults in remorse.