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"Abstracts" by Joe DiMino

We travel surface images,
A journey of lines
And angles—
(I have mine and you
have yours)—
Seeking a common periphery
Where rest is possible—
An abstract hand surfaces
We both can clasp…

At last drawn into
Whatever truth needs say
In the way of our listening—

In purest sense
Truth is compliment
Without bonds—

A like of differences
Transcending
Taking us both to new levels
Often thought
Out of mind—

(having purified the earth
and ourselves
through some strange rain,
pooling,
exploring all cracks
deeper into crevasses)

It is a dimension
Of teeming

Gathering

Saturation,

Evaporation—

Concentrating back

To dive again
From even higher:

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