Let's say that every person has four sides. And let's say that those four sides each have four sides, and that those four sides in turn also have four sides, ad infinitum, raised to the fourth, to the fourth, to the fourth, to the fourth... I imagine there's a mathematical term for this but I don't know it. Let's say each side is presented at one time, in one place. When we wake up in the morning, for instance: one person. During the shower: another person. At coffee: another person. Renting a house: another person. Light shines through, illuminates another, here, today, now, and the light shifts and another. This week, Timothy O'Keefe's eight Quadrilaterals explore these sides of self. Tight, four-sided poems—beautiful four line machines, both playful and smart. In a line like "People pass by people passing for themselves passing people," I wonder the person I choose to be today and I will choose for tomorrow. I'm never sure which side to show.