Steam Poem by Peter Black

Who are they to say I need to sleep
Though at the sides of my eyes, I see steam,
White smoke rising from an unseen source,
Out of dirt, grass, couches, walls;
The dreams of waking, laying, they mean no thing.
In my head I feel the pressure grow,
Build behind my eyes and explode out my nose,
Fume from my ears and send my hair straight up
And I stand on tip toes, but know:
This is the place between two planes,
I see other dimensions and feel the bends.
What are time and possibility to me;
I bridge the tenth where all is right,
Among infiniteness the grass is green.
I jump down, swim in, see outside,
And figure whimsy through the 5th and 6th,
Though at some point I did fall asleep.