Fichte / Picture

By Richard Mather

There is nothing real anywhere, neither

outside of us nor in us. I know of

no being at all. Not even myself.

Images there are. They are all that exist,

connected to each other, interpenetrating,

merging, overlapping, an irreducible

multiplicity of unframed pictures

in movement.

It is a strange dream

making pictures of other pictures,

the image of your mind picturing

pictures, and the picture of my mind

picturing you doing so.