As A Dream Of A Night Vision Poem by Anthony Weir

Because I look from outside out
terrified to look from inside in
I seem to come to life through burglary.

Puppet deliberately tangling my strings
so as to have to cut them,
I might thus fall from
rôle not to reality but grace
belongingness beyond longing
affinity beyond sex
conviviality beyond consumingness
of fire where spiders burn
and webs transmute to puppet-strings.

Because I take and take to things
things which I make magically
execute me
and I am only questioning and doubt
looking ineluctably from outside out.