Night after night I still dream about these blocks. Dance they do, dance they don't.
Seeing them hand-less in effortless glide, my mind strides so young to differ!
squared, cube, these blocks move
sporadic movement in dance
no rhyme, reasoning
Again the nights throw these scratching sounds from below my bed, dread I.
In confusion scrawl, they bawl silently to me,...
Continue reading...