Friday, April 17, 2015

OCEAN OF CRITICISM

It's like—the harder one tries
to squint

to look

and pin down 
this or 
that giant 

body
more significantly,

the more one becomes—
dizzy
distracted

faint 
and confounded by—
all those strange little paisley patterns

forming 
swelling
congregating
peeling-
apart
and then marching

across 
the squelchy underside
surface of each of one's eyeballs—

but always 
disappearing 
before one can ever

dare to attend—
and so become 
influenced 

by—
even a single 
one of them fully;

like waves on water—rather 
unimaginable

to actually grab 
hold of
and describe 

as anything significant
apart 
from the 
whole vessel

because—there's really
no story!

That is—no birth, and certainly no 
death what-
soever.

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