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.
