And then there's a poem from that time called To the Hand.
It's a matter for wonder sometimes
to you realize that you have 10 toes, two knees, and a hand.
What the eye sees is a dream of sight.
What it wakes to is a dream of sight.
And in the dream for every real lock,
there is only one real key and it's in some other dream
now invisible.
It's the key to the one real door.
It opens the water and the sky both at once.
It's already in the downward river with my hand on it,
my real hand.
And I am saying to the hand, turn, open the river.