T o u c h  I
If you have found yourself inside such a person,
That means that you must have entered there somehow.
That’s why they say: do not search here and there,
But a moment of touch – the door between.
Do not study a form. Nor shape. Something else
In assimilation of character into character of matter.
Do not study a tone. Nor sound. Only: echo.
No specter. Nor colour. Only this by which
The transparency holds on to itself: a balance.
No tissue before life or tissue after life,
But the very act of one consciousness flowing into another.
No architecture. Nor a brick. Study holes.
Study the mouth of space. Breath.
T o u c h II
There are artists whose sight stops
Like the palm edge of a carate player, stopped and tamed,
At the very film where magic resides.
I see beneath the skin of hard, dark things.
I see the joints of space and the nervous system of time.
I cannot see a form if I don’t see formlessness first.
I do not observe visible without its invisibility.
Each artwork madly stuns me whenever I encounter it.
And also that which I have surpassed. And also that I have yet to surpass.
He who agrees to create also agrees to wonder. 
                                                              Miroslav Antic