The bed becomes a meadow; the meadow is lived-in.
A troll with a green beard of meadow grass
Fills the entire meadow with his face.
His eyes bleed a little bit of blood which is smeared around

And might be mistaken for a coat of flowers.
A blue cloud-brow is wrinkled as if worried thoughts
Float through the meadow
Changing the look of things in ways you can’t figure out by

Sight. When something changes, without
Leaving a mark. When a lack of information becomes
A form of knowledge, all of a sudden, all
By itself . . . It could make a person get religious.

It could make a person feel they
See
Trolls, satyrs, elves.
Religion is when people fail to acknowledge

They’ve put
Themselves
Into
What they’re looking at, Eric thinks.